


Nesting Dragons

by Robiness



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, As in they will officially get together in a later book Slow Burn, BAMF Lily Evans Potter, Book 3: Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, Character Development, Confrontations, Crushes, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Harry Potter is a Good Friend, Lily Evans Potter Lives, M/M, Motherhood, Protective Lily Evans Potter, Requited Lily/Snape will Never Happen in this verse, Slow Burn, more like Harry Potter and Actual Honesty from Adults in Charge of Him, therefore drarry will be gradual, treating barely-teens as the children they are
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-14
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-01-30 19:35:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 65,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21433573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Robiness/pseuds/Robiness
Summary: "Lily, you don't understand—""I understand that we unfortunately have different priorities, Albus," Lily interrupted, the fire in her eyes familiar to all who knew her.Familiar, but not the same. The fire had somehow turned very cold."I died for my son," Lily continued, her gaze passing judgment on everyone present.She turned back to the Headmaster. "My son, Harry. Not your Chosen One. Not yourBoy-Who-Lived," she spat.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy & Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Harry Potter & Lily Evans Potter, Harry Potter & Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger & Harry Potter, Other Relationship Tags to Be Added
Comments: 221
Kudos: 787





	1. Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Nasty case of flu, plus it's 3 AM, so thorough editing will come later.
> 
> I expect to really enjoy writing this, though - thanks for giving it a shot!

“How wonderful!” Petunia Dursley exclaimed, looking at the brand-new television in their kitchen. “Dudley will be so pleased!”

“Poor boy’s been working hard, he deserves a surprise when he gets back.” Vernon’s smug expression suddenly darkened. “Only problem’s that freak and his ruddy owl will be back, too.”

“Oh Vernon,” Petunia tried to soothe her husband. “I’m _ so _ sorry we have to. You know I’ll be the first to lock our doors if it was possible. But even _ they_,” - she curled her lip in distaste - “had to beg us to take him back, darling. Who knows what they’d do if we refused?”

“I know you can’t help it, Petunia,” Vernon grumbled. “Well, the neighbours will start muttering again if the freak doesn’t appear from time to time. Might as well remind them of our own charity case when those nasty churchgoers come ‘round intruding!”

“I’ll be cutting down his part of the food budget this time,” Petunia sniffed. “Serves him right for all that foolishness last summer! Imagine, threatening us with his - his!” She broke off, unable to even complete the thought. “Threatening _ Dudders!_”

“At least now we know if he goes out of line, they won’t want him either!” her husband chuckled, hunching over at his armchair. “Imagine! Even his _ kind _kicking the freak out! Why, then we’d have no reason not to!”

“How wonderful,” she repeated wistfully, wiping down the counters for the third time that day. “Just you and me and darling Dudley. No freak vandalising our house and jeopardising our safety.” She felt ill remembering the broken bars and her Vernon almost falling out the window. And that car! What would the neighbours think if they’d seen _ that_?

Later, after her husband took his usual nap after his humongous lunch, she had Dudley’s room to air and clean. She changed his sheets again, remembering he had a new favourite colour. She carefully placed all the brand-new gadgets they bought for him on the bed so that he could see them once he arrived. She hung all the new clothes and after a moment, decided to take the ones from last year out for disposal - she’ll take him shopping for more, of course, as soon as he’d rested. Her Dudders was a growing boy!

Knowing Vernon could sleep through it, she ran the vacuum, then wiped down all the surfaces. She resolved to do a bit of cleaning again tomorrow for good measure. Her son was delicate - it wouldn’t do at all for him to be uncomfortable, or (goodness!) _ sick_, as soon as she got him back. 

She briefly thought of the other bedroom, where her nephew would stay, but shook her head in disdain._ That boy will be contaminating the area once he’s there anyway, _ she thought, shuddering.

However, she will need to make sure that the cupboard under the stairs is empty, so that they can contain his..._ items_ for the rest of the summer. The ingrate will have his protests, no doubt, but Vernon was much more effective at dealing with him in those scenarios.

No point wasting thoughts about their extra baggage, she decided, heading downstairs to make sure that the pantry was stocked with Dudley’s favourite foods. 

* * *

At the Burrow, Ron Weasley was shoveling dinner into his mouth with much less gusto than normal. Harry’s uncle had seemed so _ angry _ when he tried out the telephone yesterday. Dad reckoned anyone would be disgruntled at being shouted at in the ear, and that made sense, since the Muggle very loudly yelled back before causing a loud noise that sounded like it could break the device, followed by the scary beeping.

It probably wasn’t anything, really, but Ron still couldn’t figure out why the Muggle denied Harry lived there…

“Why so glum?” his younger sister asked, helping their mum collected the used dishes. “You didn’t even get thirds. Are you dying?”

“Er, just upset about the call yesterday, Gin,” Ron replied, morosely picking at the last of his bacon. “Hope I didn’t get Harry in trouble with his relatives.”

“Why would he get in trouble? He’s _ Harry Potter! _They probably just had to have his uncle’s ears checked after all your hollering.”

Normally he’d agree that no one would bother punishing Harry for anything, but now that guilt makes him think about it, what he knows about Harry’s Muggle doesn’t really add up. Ron knows they’re mean, but Harry jokes about it, so it mustn’t be so bad...?

He remembers the bars on Harry’s window last summer. He knows the Muggles were afraid of magic, so he reckoned they were for keeping wizards away from stealing Harry the way they did. But in his mind, the bars looked more cruel than they did back when he was pumped up on adrenaline and excitement the night of.

“Mum,” he called, taking his dishes to the sink. “Why’d Harry’s relatives pretend he wasn’t there?”

“Oh, I suppose it was for his safety, Ron,” Molly Weasley replied absently. "Especially with his birthday approaching, auspicious dates need extra caution!"

“Can’t he stay here, then? It’s safe too and he seemed much happier here last summer.”

That got Molly’s attention. “Oh! No, I love that boy to bits, but we can’t monopolize him. Dumbledore left him in his relatives’ care for blood protection, he said. It’s all very important, so don’t get any ideas sneaking him out again, Ronald Weasley!”

Ginny snorted. “I think he’d be glad not to have to stay _here_.”

“Yes, he’d be much more comfortable at his own house! This home has its own charm, but I know you understand, Ronald, that Harry shouldn’t have to settle _ here_!” his mum waved her wand at the scrubs by the dishes. “He’s welcome anytime, of course, Merlin knows he needs a lot of stuffing, that one - all skin and bones...”

Ron sat on the counter. “But _ why _ is he so skinny, Mum?” He remembered Harry mentioning chores, but while it surprised him that _ Harry Potter _ also had _ chores, _ it didn’t seem noteworthy at the time. But is that why he was on the small side? Was that detail actually important? He didn’t even know what he was digging for, really, and it was hurting his head a bit.

“I’m not surprised, if he’s running around with you and doing things like saving Ginny here all the time!” his mother replied, cutting up the vegetables for tomorrow's lunch.

Ginny blushed red as their hair and mumbled about laundry before leaving. 

“What’s got you in such a fuss, Ronald?” Mum turned and finally looked at him. Her tone was exasperated, but her eyes were concerned, making him sheepish, unused to the attention.

“I dunno,” he said, weak but honest. “Sometimes, something doesn’t seem right when I think about those Muggles.” Again, what was he looking for? His brain ran through what could be clues, but of what, he had no idea. This is why he generally left the problem-solving to Hermione, but he didn’t want to present this to her when he wasn’t sure if there _ was _a problem. Same goes for why he can’t muster the conviction to talk to Harry himself.

“Ron, dear, I know he’s your friend,” his mum said gently. “But remember that the wizarding world would fall over itself to help if there was something wrong. Including us. But even Albus Dumbledore approves of this set-up, so there shouldn’t be a problem.” She patted his cheek rather roughly. “Now stop being silly and go help your brothers with the gnomes!”

And so, Ron Weasley, youngest of six sons and elder brother of a long-wished-for daughter, was dismissed the way he often was in the loving but crowded household he lived in. He went outside, shrugging off his concerns. At least people would listen to Harry if _ he _ voiced his problems.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Her eyes were closed, her mind a little unsettled in the silence that seemed to surround her more often than anything else in the recent past. A decade ago - less than thirteen years ago - she would have been surrounded by noise and laughter of family and allies in her home. 

_ I only ever saw home in those times, _ she mused.Out in the wizarding world was more than noise, for certain. The cause might have been worth it, but even she could admit that she contributed to the destruction of the war. She never forgot the blood and death she closed her doors to when she swiftly accepted the truth that her son’s life mattered above all. 

She was unsure if _ this _ silence, this nervous uncertainty, was preferable to the sure chaos of the past. In any case, it would be temporary. She wasn’t stupid - a storm was brewing, and the first sign was the escape of Sirius Black.

Sirius… Another situation that wasn’t right. The time he spent in her life was much shorter than the time he didn't, but even _ she _ personally did not believe the nonsense about his subservience to the Dark Lord. 

A mistake or not, she cannot bring herself to believe that he would wish harm on her family, her son.

_ Her son. _Sweet little child who deserves everything and more, not this tipping of the balance of his life that’s sure to come.

“Mum!”

She opened her eyes at the voice. The owner began talking about his housemates’ letters, how much he would like to visit France again, that dreadful Potter who think he’s too good to use a brush at least... idle concerns used to mask the actual topic he wanted to broach. 

Narcissa Malfoy smiled privately when finally, Draco mildly mentioned _ the papers lately, Mother, of course Father was right that the Ministry cannot be left alone, but the madman’s only still out because of the incompetence, surely, Mother? The Manor’s wards are far superior and Hogwarts might be a tad safer but even then our house-elves are efficient aren’t they and— _

“Hush, my darling,” Narcissa Malfoy said, brushing Draco’s hair away from his face, the way she always did when he worked himself up like this. “You know that I will always ensure your safety.”

Draco flushed, as he was the age to do so under her ministrations, but he surprisingly set his shoulders, instead of stepping away.

“I know, Mummy,” he replied, worried enough to let slip the term he’d already deemed childish. “But who will ensure _ yours _when I’m away at school and you’re alone here most of the time? Father’s always so busy...”

Her heart ached, as it did for no one else, as she reassured her son. “There is no need to be anxious, darling. Imagine a mother dragon that has young to protect — do you think she’ll be easily defeated? As long as you're around, there is nothing that could pull me from this world.” 

As Draco hugged her, mollified, she decided that she disliked the glimpse of fear in his silver eyes, however brief it may have been. She dreaded every moment her son was to be without her.


	2. Your Parent or Guardian, Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It doesn't feel right uploading a prologue without immediately adding chapter one (read: don't expect this upload speed to be constant heh) BUT ALSO I was pleasantly surprised that ... anyone... noticed this fic so quickly! 
> 
> I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Note: Title comes specifically from the Hogsmeade permission slip given to third years. Saying that because I'm a nerd.

Harry Potter dragged his luggage as fast as he could to get away from the immediate danger. Adrenaline fueled him, and the steady metallic jingle of Hedwig’s cage kept the beat of his escape. 

But the rush left his body eventually and he collapsed against a wall in Magnolia Crescent. It was dark, but it would be enough to cover him from the stray night-jogger for now. 

He had nowhere to go, he realized. He was probably— most likely —expelled from Hogwarts, and then… they’ll take his wand away. Blowing up his aunt was surely the worst way of breaking the Restriction of Underage Wizardry, short of actual murder. Would Aunt Marge even survive that? Something deep and impulsive inside Harry expressed that she didn’t deserve to, but the rest of him recoiled at the thought.

He was angry, but he was used to it. It wasn’t cause to be cruel. He’ll just bury the unfairness of it all, and focus on the problem ahead of him. The Dursleys were not his immediate concern. 

With a jolt, he realised what he's just thought.

It was a summer night, and the Dursleys were not his concern. 

He let out a startled laugh. _ I’m done, _he had told Uncle Vernon. And he was! There’s no way they’d take him back now. He remembered pointing the wand at his uncle, and the feeling of power underneath the anger. He would never intentionally hurt anyone, but _ they _never believed that. Harry knew that they thought him rotten, because they never stopped telling him. They’d be too afraid to let him into their house again.

Along with the panic and fear he felt in his current situation, Harry felt giddy relief.

_ Is this what it feels to be granted a wish? _he thought, warmth passing through him. 

Azkaban was the worst case scenario, dreadful place to be feared or not. He wonders if he’d get a trial, and if he could possibly get a less harsh punishment. He might get outlawed by the wizarding world, which would be horrid but at least allow him freedom. Ron and Hermione might want to help, and Hermione would certainly have good ideas. It was a shame Hedwig was off flying on her own, so he had to think of something else for now. 

He reminded himself that he had a plan for this anyway. A bit earlier than he imagined (younger Harry used to count down to his eighteenth birthday), but Harry had always prepared to leave the Dursleys as soon as he could. He might have been distracted by the discovery of magic, but at least that gave him his broomstick and Invisibility Cloak to use now. He looked down at the wand in his hand and wondered if the cloak could conceal his magic from the Ministry for a bit, just until he could get to Gringotts.

Worrying his lip, he looked up at the night sky, waiting for the Ministry personnel to swoop down and arrest him. When it stayed clear, he slumped again, sighing.

A forlorn feeling threatened to overtake the boy. He wouldn't be allowed to learn any more magic, the first thing in his life to bring him joy. He wondered if he’d be allowed to keep his textbooks. He knew wandless magic was possible, most recent proof being his aunt floating in the sky somewhere, and he was already going give it a go after the Dursleys locked up his school things back when the summer began. Now, he thought there was probably no other choice, not if he wanted to keep his magic. Necessity has always been the best motivation in Harry’s life. 

However, all the conflicting feelings were tiring him out, which means it was time to bury them for later. He had to move before Muggles see him and get suspicious, anyway.

Harry Potter, at the back of his mind, had always expected to live out life as an outcast, and nothing — not even Hogwarts, beloved home that it was — had ever proven him otherwise. As long as he had even just a little magic, Hedwig to occasionally contact his friends, and a significant lack of Dursleys, he’d be fine.

_ It really could be worse,_ he chastised himself, searching for his Invisibility Cloak.

* * *

Vernon was _ furious. _ That bloody runt casting evils on Marjorie. His _ sister!_ He remembered the horror of seeing her fly away to who-knows-where. Then the boy ran away like the stunted coward he is, didn’t he?!

He blanched at the memory of the boy pointing his wooden stick at him. _ Threatening _ him after blowing up his sister! The nerve!

Dudley was distressed after the whole thing, the poor child. He was stuffing his face in the living room. Vernon sympathised, he would go get comfort food himself if the kitchen didn’t make him feel uneasy now. He’d have to wait until the missus got cleaning. The devil spawn wasn’t even here, and he was still interfering with their lives!

“Chin up, Dudley,” he told his son. They didn’t have the heart to enforce bedtime in case the poor boy got nightmares from the whole ordeal. “If that freak ever dares come back, we’ll knock the air right out of him, won’t we!”

Petunia was out in the garden, talking to those… _ people _ who came to fix Marge. Vernon, of course, refused to have them inside. It filled him with rage at the thought of having _more_ vermin swarming his home. 

He had half a mind to storm the freaks outside and teach them a lesson about giving spoiled rotten runts too much leeway when his wife returned.

She looked exhausted and jittery, but the blessed woman managed a smile for him. “They fixed the - well, all that. Marge is safe and won’t remember a thing.”

“And the neighbours?” Vernon demanded.

“Them, too,” she assured him, while fixing Dudley’s hair and rubbing his shoulders.

It didn’t surprise Vernon that _ they _ would have ways to scramble innocent minds. “As long as the neighbours know nothing,” he grumbled. “And Marge won’t be asking questions. Have they arrested the freak?”

His Petunia sighed. “They said accidental ma- accidents weren’t a crime.” She then pursed her lips. “We’ll have to take him back next summer, too.”

“WHAT?” he roared, uncaring of the spittle flying about. Dudley, who had been focused on the living room television, startled, spilling crisps everywhere. “ACCIDENTS?! THAT _ FREAK _IS A HAZARD TO US GOOD FOLK — ACCIDENTS, MY ARSE! I’LL BE DAMNED IF HE STEPS ANOTHER FOOT IN THIS HOUSE TO HARM MY FAMILY!”

“Vernon,” Petunia pleaded. “I loathe having him here too, but we have to. We had an agreement.”

“Bugger that blasted agreement!” he shouted, causing her to gasp. “I will NOT HAVE MY HOME FURTHER CONTAMINATED!”

Petunia opened her mouth, then seemed to think better of it. The telly was the only source of sound. Vernon, satisfied that he got his way, relaxed into the large armchair for a little snooze... 

The doorbell rang all of a sudden, making Vernon jump. He exchanged confused glances with his wife, but whatever rude prick was at the door rang the bell several more times. He wiped at his mouth angrily went to the door when it rang once more. He was _ done _ with riffraff trying to force their way into _his_ house!

He opened the door roughly. “It’s the middle of the bloody night! Who are you?!” he spat at the stranger. 

“I beg your pardon?” the stranger said, startled. She was wearing a ridiculous cloak with a hood, and with the darkness, only part of her face was seen. She pulled off the hood a bit, revealing pale features and red hair.

His memory stirred somewhat, but it only fueled his annoyance. “Who. Are. You? What do you want?! Respectable folk are sleeping here!”

She was trying to look over his shoulder with no luck. “I’m sorry for the disturbance,” she said, finally looking straight at him. He flinched at the color of her eyes. 

He was familiar with that disgusting shade of green. “I’m just here for Harry,” she continued, again sneaking looks behind him. "Would you -"

He slammed the door on her face, and charged back to the living room. “I THOUGHT YOU WERE THE ONLY FAMILY OF THAT FREAK?” he bellowed at his wife, over the doorbell now ringing frantically.

“They said so!” Petunia cried, wringing her hands. “Was that a relative? Of his father’s, no doubt. Tell them he’s not here! Dudders, off to bed now, quickly!”

Dudley, sensing danger, ran up to his room as fast as he could. He still remembered the last time someone forced their way into their house, and the following surgery he had to endure. He tripped at the top, however, when the front door was blasted open.

A lady in swishing dark robes entered, wooden stick held out. Dudley whimpered. 

“I’m sorry to frighten you!” the lady called to him. “It really is important that I see Harry. I recognized your father at the door. You must be Dudley? Where’s your cousin, love?”

Dudley backed away, as his parents rushed to the entry hall. Vernon, thinking the stick was pointing at his son, roared and stood in front of him.

“I’ve had enough of you freaks and your threats! GET OUT! GET OUT!”

The lady quickly pocketed her wand, and raised her hands placatingly. “I don’t mean to be so rude,” she apologized, calmly approaching. “I’m just here to see my s—Tuney?”

Dudley turned to his mum, who was frozen in shock, staring at the stranger who seemed to know her, and who rushed over to give Petunia a hug. He couldn’t see his dad’s face, but he thought it might be as gobsmacked as he felt. 

“I never expected to see you again so soon!” the lady wouldn’t stop talking now, smiling at his mum, who still looked horrified. “I was just following where I felt Harry’s magic - I know it must be so strange having me here. I’ll explain everything later, I’d just like to see Harry now. He’s asleep, I expect? Merlin, I’m dying to see him - oh, is that joke in bad taste?” She was cheerfully walking up the stairs, Dudley and his dad practically flinging themselves out of her way.

“Which one is his bedroom, Tuney? You know, I would never have expected you to take Harry in, considering — but it’s all in the past, though, isn’t it? I’m sure a lot has changed, and seeing my Harry with you is a pleasant surprise, to be sure.” The three Dursleys flinched as she turned to them with a curious smile. 

“Tuney? I really want to see my boy now. I’m sure you understand, as a mother?” 

“The fr-Harry,” his mum forced out, looking at the ground. “Harry. He’s not here.” 

For the first time in his thirteen years of life, Dudley had an epiphany. Several, in fact.

_Firstly,_ _this was his aunt. His mother’s sister, who was supposed to be dead. _

“What do you mean he’s not here? All his residual magic is here. He cast strong magic here recently, I can feel it. Did something happen? Is he in danger?”

_ Second, if his family believed she was dead, then maybe not everything they believed was true. _Dudley staggered back at the thought of it. 

“I said he’s not here, Lily— just— go away!”

“I know he was here. _ Is he in danger? _Tell me, Petunia, I can tell when you’re lying!”

“DON’T YOU CALL MY WIFE A LIAR! She said your boy’s not here, SO LEAVE!”

_ Third, more than his mum’s sister, she was _Harry’s mum. 

“I’ll go once I know where to follow him! Petunia, please, I need to find him, it’s been so long—”

“STUPID BINT—”

“Vernon darling, let me handle—”

“—IF YOU’RE LOUSY ENOUGH TO LEAVE YOUR SON ON OTHER FOLKS’ DOORSTEPS, DON’T COMPLAIN IF THE STUPID FREAK’S NOT HERE WHEN YOU GET BACK!”

_ Lastly, if Dudley knew anything, it was that his mum would do anything for him. Therefore, if she found out anyone treated Dudley the way they’ve been treating Harry, she would be out for blood. _

The ensuing silence was suffocating, and Dudley watched Lily Potter lift her wand once more. “_What _did you call_ my son_?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't expect the Dursleys to feature much in the overall story, but their abuse of Harry will serve as a catalyst for a lot of the development, not just of Harry, but of his relationships and general personality. 
> 
> So this is will be it for their perspectives (for now?). Also I hate them, and I have a hard time toeing the line between being true to their canon characterizations and just plain relentless bashing (this line is important to me here even though they deserve all the bashing they get). 
> 
> Idk if I explained any of that clearly but in any case, thanks for reading!


	3. Your Parent or Guardian, Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I expected to be uploading ch 4 by now, but my flu got worse before it got better.
> 
> I still have a bad cough though, I hope that didn't affect my writing!
> 
> Cheers.

The joy Harry had felt at the thought of forever leaving the Dursleys was subdued in mere hours. After the tense ride on the Knight Bus, his heart plummeted when the Minister of Magic himself received him. He was already restless after discovering the extent of Sirius Black’s madness, and the reminder of Azkaban being a place wizards feared — being on the run only to stumble into the man with the highest authority on these things felt like a really rotten cherry on top of the whole situation.

Fudge assured him everything was fine with the Dursleys, no harm done, Harry still had a place for the summer.

“I don’t ever want to go back to Privet Drive,” he informed the Minister. 

Fudge assured him he would feel differently about his “family” eventually, though he himself was unsure when he said it. 

Harry knew he wouldn’t feel any different, considering he hadn’t for as long as he could remember. So, quite like someone promising to dig an even deeper hole to negotiate his escape from the current one, he asked about his punishment. Anything they can throw at him, (probably even permanent residence in Azkaban, he was starting to think), seemed less bleak than returning to his relatives.

It was cleared up miserably fast with Harry’s freedom, wand and Hogwarts slot intact — for reasons Harry didn’t understand, of course. Adults never seemed to think it was important for him to know the motive of their odd actions around him. 

_ It kind of makes sense_, he thought. _ If they never wonder why I hate the Dursleys, or wonder about anything kids feel, really, then they must think it’s also okay for us to make our own assumptions. _Well, it’s not like he wasn’t used to people assuming things before getting to know him, so he shrugged the whole thing off.

When Fudge, citing “rules”, refused to sign his Hogsmeade permission form, Harry wasn’t really surprised, even if it proved his suspicion that the Ministry of Magic’s law enforcement was strangely selective. Resigned, he agreed to any arrangements and restrictions.

He was bone-tired by the time he was led to his room with Hedwig, who immediately fluttered unto his arm, cooing in concern.

Yet despite his exhaustion, he stayed up until morning, contemplating all the events in the last twelve hours. As the sky lit up slowly, golden streaks chasing pink, he started to see the details of his room: comforting hearth, soft bed, his broomstick and trunk settled against proper wooden furniture, and a great glass mirror.

It was better than any of the few bedspaces he’d ever had, most importantly due to the notable lack of Dursleys. Even the Hogwarts dorms fell short, because this was _ his_, at least for the next three weeks, meaning no loud snoring or a shared loo to contend with.

As he lay down to finally rest, Harry closed his eyes, feeling a bit cross at himself for not feeling as happy as he ought to be.

* * *

Tom, innkeeper and barman of the Leaky Cauldron, was used to all sorts passing through his pride and joy. As the doorway from Muggle London to the much-frequented Diagon Alley, his Leaky welcomed those who seeked her sanctuary, whether renowned wizards attracting small crowds in the bigger tables or cloaked ne’er-do-wells keeping to the shadows.

Regardless of efforts to remain inconspicuous, however, Tom was aware at all times of anyone who enters his Leaky. If they were a regular, or a return visitor, he’d offer the drink they ordered last time. If it was a first-timer, he efficiently memorized their faces and gathered their preferences, explicitly said or not. Glamoured or disguised individuals were tricky to remember, of course, and were unlikely to return, but it was always just a quick cuppa or something equally non-inebriating with that lot, anyway.

Sometimes, someone whose reputation preceded them came by, like when he met Harry Potter a few years back. Mr. Potter was back again for longer this time, and well, sometimes information reaches people who then give chase.

“Beetle’s Brandy, Ms. Skeeter?” he politely offered to the blonde scanning the room.

Rita Skeeter, sensationalist reporter, received looks from the other patrons. She had startled at his words, but she relaxed with a sickly-sweet smile and sauntered towards the bar, followed by a young man with a camera. _ Young Mr. Blotts, mulled wine even outside Yule, fried sausages with baked pumpkin, _Tom’s mind automatically supplied.

“My dear Tom,” Rita said, leaning towards him from across the bar. “I got a tip that Harry Potter was frequently seen in Diagon Alley in the last week, and _your _inn is the only one here. Care to share?”

He gave her a pleasant smile. “Are you certain you don’t want a drink, madam?”

She pursed her lips. “If you insist,” the reporter said, apparently deciding that playing along would bring her to her scoop faster. “A sherry, then?”

Tom had already poured the drink, of course. He served the glass on the bartop, along with Blotts’ mulled wine. 

“Oh no, none for Bozo,” Rita declared. “Alcohol makes his hands jittery. Now, about Potter?”

“Excuse me for a moment, a diner arrived.” The innkeeper left the mulled wine with young Blotts.

Indeed, a hooded figure was hesitating near the Muggle entrance. Tom went around towards the customer. “Welcome!” he greeted. He noticed pale, slender hands. “Would you like a drink, madam?”

The woman shook her head, and he spied red hair. “No, thank you. I’m...looking for someone.”

“Another patron here?” Tom asked with a smile. 

“Actually…” She hesitated before continuing. “I’m looking for my son. He’s supposed to be here, or _was _here… I haven’t seen him in so long...” 

“In that case, I have to insist on at least a cup of tea,” he told her in a cheerful voice. “Then, after I attend to Ms. Skeeter’s inquiries over there, you may tell me your story if you’d like. Crowds come and go here at the Leaky Cauldron, but I’ll remember your son if he’s ever stepped in.”

The woman was silent, thinking. “I would appreciate the help,” she said eventually. “And the tea, thank you.” 

“Good!” After ushering her to a vacant table nearby, Tom conjured a tea tray with the essentials and returned to the bar.

Skeeter looked very displeased. “Now may _I _be indulged?” she asked, sniffing.

“Of course! Would you like more sherry?”

“No, dear Tom.” She had gone to scowling outright. “I would _ like _some answers. Is the precious Harry Potter in one of your rooms, or not?”

He put on a thoughtful expression as he wiped the mugs he usually washed the Muggle way. “A reputable reporter such as yourself has reliable sources,” he said simply, watching the return of her smirk. “However, Mr. Potter isn’t here. I’m afraid it _ is _the time of the year Hogwarts students frequent the alley.”

“You’re telling me that Harry Potter has been sighted in the area almost every day for the past three weeks without passing through here? I heard from a Ministry friend that there was a mishap with his supposedly Muggle relatives, all very hush-hush, of course, however-”

“What I _ can _tell you, Ms. Skeeter,” Tom interrupted, adopting a bewildered tone that was not entirely false. “Is that I don’t understand why you would spend your valuable time and quills chasing a student quietly buying his school items. Surely Sirius Black’s continuous escape from the Aurors is much more newsworthy?”

“Where’s Black and why hasn’t he been caught?” a voice called out from the corner.

“People should be informed and safe!” someone else yelled, followed by grumbles of agreement from other patrons and some louder complaints.

"Where's the bloody madman?!"

"Do you think gossip is more important than out safety, Skeeter?"

"Will rubbish be all you print?!"

To her credit, or perhaps not, Skeeter turned around and merely raised her nose at the crowd getting increasingly incensed by the second. “My _life_ is dedicated to informing the population, as you all should know already. Come, Bozo, we won’t get anywhere here,” she called, walking out the Muggle entrance, Apparating away once outside the door.

The photographer, who had been enjoying his mulled wine, dropped the mug and some coins in front of Tom, and hurried after her. The tension disippated, bar a few mutters, and conversations quickly returned after that.

Two of the young Weasleys popped up in front of him. 

“How about some ale, ol’ Tom?” one cheerfully asked.

“Or some of that brandy you were saying?” the other suggested with a mad grin.

“Just for helping out, you know—”

“—getting the _ disruptive—_”

“—don’t forget meddlesome—”

“—_nasty _reporter—”

“—out of your hair!” finished the left twin, squinting at Tom’s bald head.

“Mr. Weasleys, I am perfectly capable of handling my own hair, as well as my own customers,” the innkeeper chided gently. “No alcohol for disruptive, meddlesome underage wizards, I'm afraid. Might I offer extra dessert for dinner, free-of-charge?”

The twins beamed, then made him promise to serve very large ice cream tubs _ just _as their other brothers (reportedly “Ronniekins” and “Bighead”) finished theirs. 

“Might as well make sure Mr. Potter gets found by your brother out there!” he called as they went to their mischief, but they didn’t hear him as they walked further away, conversing rapidly. Tom was shaking his head, chuckling, when he felt a customer leave the pub.

He turned to vanish any dishes they used, but to his surprise, a completely untouched tea tray was the only thing left at the table he gave the woman. A moment later, he heard the brick entrance to Diagon Alley open.

He shrugged and returned to work. It wouldn’t be the first time someone hurried out, and his Leaky’s doors were always open both ways.

As he refilled a regular’s firewhiskey, he toyed with the idea of actually inventing Beetle’s Brandy to introduce to the menu.

* * *

Lily thought that old Tom was a great help, even if she left before she could talk to him. The Skeeter woman’s prying confirmed Harry was nearby and safe, which was wonderful, and was also all she needed to be assured that there was no war waging while she wasn’t by her son. 

It was the unexpected mention of Sirius Black that concerned her. The Aurors were after Sirius? _ Their _ Sirius? _ Padfoot? _It was hard to imagine, but then she saw the front page of the paper the man in the next table was reading. 

It _ was _Sirius, but... not. It was certainly his face roaring at her, all his features familiar, no matter how starved-looking: his dark hair longer than ever, the cheekbones he shared with his brother dangerously protruding, the lips that used to express constant joy around James now curled over his teeth…

The man put down the newspaper and folded it, digging into his pastry, but Lily had seen enough.

She could still see signs of their Sirius everywhere in the alleged criminal’s face. Everywhere except his eyes… eyes that were dead. 

James once told her that no matter how hard Sirius struggled, his eyes always had hints of amusement, whether at himself or at his situation. _ He always held humour like a crutch, and I sometimes wonder if I encouraged it too much back in Hogwarts. _

James would never have said that if he could see his best friend now. She never understood Sirius the way her husband had, but she did agree that the man carried a playful spirit that no one else managed in the midst of war. Now, the emptiness of his eyes made Lily’s heart ache.

She wondered what he had done in her absence, and what the wizarding world had done to him. She definitely needed more information, then she would have to find out how to resurrect Sirius Black, and then she would do it.

But _right_ _then_ she heard her son’s name, along with a direction to his current whereabouts. She had moved towards the brick entrance before she realized it. 

She tapped the pattern, and never felt so happy to see Diagon Alley emerge, even when she was younger and entranced by the wonder of magic. 

She walked with a purpose that had been dampened by the incident at her sister’s house. For a while, she had doubted the link she initially put so much trust into, but now hope renewed. She did not know where this connection to what was certainly was her son’s magic came from, but the lack of information did not matter at this moment. 

What mattered was the feeling of the bond getting stronger than ever, and intensifying with each step down the cobblestone path.

Tendrils of nostalgia tried to snare her. Memories of looking wide-eyed between the apothecary and the cauldron shop her first time here… dragging Sev to the Owl Emporium… What had seemed like endless knowledge available at Flourish and Blotts…

Even when the crowd thickened in front of Madam Malkin’s, frantic parents waiting with their children for last-minute fittings, she refused to reminisce. She would have time for that later, once she had Harry to share all the memories with. 

Gringotts stood tall and imposing as ever as she stopped near Florean Fortescue’s. Ignoring the reminder of shared ice creams with James, she looked around. People bustling around her, children running about chasing each other, parents yelling in exasperation — somewhere among them was Harry, but where? 

A few young wizards bumped into her, and she examined them as inconspicuously as she could. Too tall to be her thirteen-year-old son. Not for the first time, she cursed the circumstances that led to her ignorance regarding something as simple as his current appearance. 

The bond had turned very warm in this area, like it was trying to comfort her. She ignored it, glancing back at another child - _ brown hair, and looked too much like the man scolding him, so no. _

Then, as if by someone’s intentional magic, the crowd parted a little. The first thing she saw was bright red hair getting messed up as the owner argued with a girl carrying a large, orange animal that was presumably from the menagerie near them. 

Between them was a third child, his back to Lily. He seemed to be idling, too-large, old clothing covering relaxed shoulders, as if merely waiting for his companions to finish. 

Harry. 

A light inside Lily burned. It wasn't caused by the sight of familiar, messy black hair that could only belong to one bloodline. It wasn't even from the bond. 

She didn't know what caused it, but she knew what it was.

It was the overwhelming, instant, _absolute_ certainty that the young boy she was looking at was her son. 

_ Harry. _

Lily felt tears forming as she took a step forward. She allowed herself a quiet gasp for breath as she walked, slower than she thought she would once she was here in this moment.

_ Harry. _

_ My son. Oh, he’s so thin. _

_ Will he recognize me? _

_ James... I finally found Harry! _

She must have looked crazy - eyes glistening, small, brief laughs escaping now and then, walking slowly… Why was she walking slowly? Harry was _ right there! _

She started speeding up, but as she passed Knockturn Alley — just when Harry was _ almost within reach — _someone pulled her into the shadows. 

Enraged, she pulled out her wand and pointed it right at the neck of her assailant. He was still pulling her arm forward? Fine. She roughly pushed him back against a wall and prepared to curse him. 

But her wand arm faltered when she saw who it was. 

“Li-_ Lily_? _ Lily Potter?_” 

* * *

Harry’s new freedom was certainly exciting, and being surrounded by magic was always a joy, especially with Tom and the alley’s friendly vendors. However, it was still brilliant to be reunited with Ron and Hermione. 

Even better, Harry didn’t have to explain what happened with Aunt Marge, which meant not having to recall the destructive, then elated, then conflicting emotions he had that night. Despite his doubts that he was let off easy because of his name, he _ was _content to fully enjoy the company of his friends if that reasoning was good enough for them.

Well, he _ was _enjoying, but much less so now that his best friends were bickering again. He stayed out of it, wondering which shops he’d show them around later, now that he knew Diagon Alley very well. 

He straightened up a bit when he felt a prickling at the back of his neck.

He turned to look behind him, but nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary in the crowded street. He glanced at the entrance to Knockturn Alley, but nothing jumped out of the shadows. He looked around further, but still could see nothing that would warrant his attention.

Not that it had been a bad feeling, really, definitely nothing like the ominous warnings he felt in times of danger.

Just… strange. Unfamiliar. It made his chest feel a little tight.

“Harry, are you alright?” Hermione asked worriedly. 

“Hm? It's nothing,” he assured his friends. “Er, let's go bring your stuff back to the Leaky.”

As he walked back with his friends, chatting about everything and nothing, his mind suddenly registered the strange feeling.

_Safety._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes, i have tom the barman hcs and i am thankful for the chance to express them
> 
> Next chapter: 
> 
> the author finally pours canon unto the table, mixing in random craft materials with a knife (imagine those "destroying makeup" videos). sounds of her coughing up her organs and laughing maniacally serve as accents to the project


	4. Tears

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yoo-hoo, early update blowout
> 
> Cheers! Or, well... *glances at chapter title*

“I’m glad to see you back, madam,” Tom greeted. “I must say, disguised figures who rush out of the Leaky don’t often return. This is a welcome surprise!”

“I’m sorry,” Lily replied, a little more confident she was earlier. “That was terribly rude, especially since you offered help when I didn’t know what to do.”

Tom gave her a warm smile. “No need for apologies, madam. Like I said, it’s a welcome surprise. Might I offer another spot of tea? My ear’s still on the table, as well.”

Lily really hadn’t expected to return to the pub. Not today, at least, but almost everything that’s been revealed to her today was unexpected, so she managed.

“Again, thank you for your kindness,” she replied sincerely. “I’ve been lucky today - I’ve found my son.”

Tom merely raised an eyebrow, though there must be some surprise Lily couldn’t detect. Tom hadn’t changed, at least. He was still professional as ever, despite what many would assume by the shabby environment of the Leaky Cauldron.

“That’s absolutely wonderful,” he said genuinely. “I certainly hope you two agree to have a celebratory pint tonight?”

She took a deep breath. “I’m afraid we won’t be able to celebrate yet. I’m here to take a room, actually.”

He looked confused, but still he smiled at her. “Of course, madam, at once... Under what name do I put the room in?” he inquired, conjuring a thick ledger.

She hesitated. Of course that’d be an issue, she was stupid not to plan around it. “Petunia,” she finally said. “Petunia McKinnon.”

There was no way he believed that, but he just nodded, quill scratching. “Petunia McKinnon,” he confirmed with a nod. “If you’ll come with me, Ms. McKinnon, I’ll lead you to your room.” 

She followed him to the second floor. She’s never stayed in the inn above the Leaky Cauldron, but her parents have, when she was still a student, and so it was familiar. She closed her eyes briefly, allowing memories to wash over her. She had time to, now.

But then as they walked, she felt Harry’s magic.

Her eyes snapped up, landing on a door that wasn’t different from the rest, except for an unassuming number 12 engraved on it. 

It was not part of the plan, but she couldn’t help but approach the source of the magic calling her. She placed her palm against the heavy oak, and she felt her eyes getting wet again.

“That room is unfortunately occupied, Ms. McKinnon,” Tom called, his tone marginally less friendly. “Your room - Room 18 - is this way.” He was probably getting very suspicious, and the thought was both amusing and sad.

They planned for this. Lily would ask for a room, in hopes of privacy for when she would reveal herself to the innkeeper. She would accept tea in her quarters, then invite him to join her. Once he’s seated, or at least stuck in conversation, she would then reveal herself and then hopefully gain access to Harry’s room.

Immediately breaking down outside Harry’s quarters was not part of the plan, but she was only human. Moreover, she was a mother, and so surprising even herself she begged him, “I’d like this room, please.” 

“As I said, the room is occupied -“

“_Please _, Tom.” She pulled her hood down to look at him, for him to see her face. 

She knew that Tom never forgot a face.

In the end, twelve years of yearning proved too much for rushed plans for gradual revelations.

For the first time, Tom’s perpetually accommodating mask slipped and he took a shaky step back.

“Lily Evans,” he whispered. Then he shook his head. “Ah. I’m afraid I’m not authorized to breach the security of that room’s occupant. His protectors gave me strict instructions that he remain safe,” Tom recited, the words neutral but his tone steely. He looked at her with thinly veiled disdain. “And I have no right to administer Veritaserum or any potion antidote to my customers. I am, however, allowed to defend my property and guests, if someone threatens them. Now, please follow me, _ Ms. McKinnon_, or I shall have to ask you to leave.”

Lily understood where he was coming from, and was even thankful for his reliable protection over Harry. So even if it hurt that someone she knew for so long distrusted her, she smiled.

“Of course, Tom, I understand,” she said softly. “I’d like a room, then.”

“Very good, madam,” he replied, nodding. He turned to lead her further down the hallway.

“I’d also like a Shirley Temple with orange juice,” she added, not moving a single step. “It may be Muggle, and _ American_, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t delightful.” 

Those were the petulant words she told him when she was eleven years old, and her parents had accompanied her to buy her school supplies for the first time. Every year after that, she would order the same, and he would pretend he wasn’t familiar with the drink, even though she knew perfectly well that his memory never faltered. She would glare, until he laughed and added greasy chips to her order for free.

Tom had taken a sharp inhale at her words, but he didn’t turn back. She waited, quietly hopeful, since she already had enough proof that he hadn’t changed at all, even if everything else in her life seemed to.

Finally, he turned around. 

The gleam in his startled her. Guilt started to creep into her chest as he pressed the back of his hand against his mouth in an attempt to suppress his emotions. But this was a promising sign, wasn't it?

After a while, he responded. “And of course,” - he closed his eyes, more overwhelmed than Lily imagined he’d be - “Little Lily deserves _ anything _she finds delightful, even nastily saccharine American drinks,” he finished, completing their little script.

Lily knew she had a good chance of making him believe it was her, and her appearance would come as a shock but she was still at a loss at his reaction. “Oh Tom,” she cried, running at him to rub his shoulder. She tried a light approach. “Old Tom, you shouldn’t break your professionalism just for me! I hoped our reunion would be happier, and with more food.”

He leaned forward, just a little. “Little Lily,” he whispered to himself. Then, he straightened up, conjured a handkerchief to wipe at his eyes. At once, the genial innkeeper Lily knew and his composure were back. “I’m happy, of course, to have an esteemed guest in my Leaky,” he announced with a toothless grin that exuded brightness.

“You shall still have your own room, of course.” She opened her mouth, but he held up a hand. “It wouldn’t do for our guest of honor to receive anything less than our only grand suite. Worry not, Ms. McKinnon,” He quirked a smile at this. “I shall fetch your drink and the key to Room 12 only _ after _you have settled. Now, madam, please follow me.” 

Lily obediently followed him, beaming. Everything had gone exceedingly well, despite her haste. If all her reunions turned out like this, maybe she wouldn’t have to worry so much about reintegrating herself into the world.

But to be honest, no one else’s opinion would really matter other than Harry’s. She wouldn’t care if the whole world was behind her, if Harry decided he didn’t want her, that he didn’t need her here.

She sighed, frustrated at having to wait even more to see her son.

_ If I encounter any more blasted delays, I’m really going to have to curse someone. _

* * *

Remus Lupin was accustomed to surprises. James and Sirius practically trained him to be, with all the chaos the Marauders never seemed to have enough of.

Life settled him further into the system. He was surprised when his friends mastered high-level magic just to accompany him in his monthly hell. The war with Voldemort burst into his life before he could brace himself. Later, the madman killed Lily and James before he knew it.

And then Sirius turned out to be a spy, a traitor who killed two of the Marauders he claimed to love so much, and in doing so, practically killed Remus, as well.

He was already numb when it turned out that a one-year-old defeated the most evil man he had ever encountered, even if he took the werewolf who turned him into consideration. He barely protested no one would hire him afterwards, despite his contributions to the war. When Sirius escaped, he just blinked, and mildly wondered why it took so long. He hadn’t expected Albus’ job offer, but it made sense, since he was the one most likely to predict at least some of Sirius’ actions.

Well, he didn’t know about that, since he hadn’t predicted his former best friend to betray them all in the first place. 

He had a surer agenda in mind. Harry Potter would be his student, and Remus intended to try to guide the boy as much as he could while he was in a position to. Earnings from teaching would help immensely, although the threat of students and their parents discovering his nature would constantly hang over him. He didn’t know what would come of it all, but he could handle things as they happened.

Then this current situation came, and he wasn’t sure he could handle it.

When he picked Lily Potter’s scent passing by Knockturn Alley, he had the wind knocked out of him even before she actually fought back against his instinctive hold. He had been the one to pull her to him, but he had no idea what to do next.

She recognized him before hexing him, thankfully, and dropped her wand. She fussed over him the way she used to, twelve years ago, before she was thought to be _ murdered. _If he weren’t a lycanthrope, he would probably question her identity violently, disbelieving, enraged that someone was impersonating his dead friend, but with his heightened senses, her scent was unmistakable. It was Lily Potter who stood in front of him.

When he didn’t respond to her ministrations, she looked worried, but told him she had to leave, had to get to Harry. 

That got through the fog in his mind. He grabbed her arm, more gently than the first time. “Sirius will get even more dangerous if he finds out you’re alive,” he warned her. “He’s escaped Azkaban.” 

He’s been stagnant these twelve years, but now his new purpose might be even more valuable - he could protect Lily and Harry Potter from his deranged childhood friend.

She looked between him and Diagonal Alley, then let out a frustrated noise. He tensed and released her, but she didn’t leave.

“All I know is that he’s being chased by Aurors,” Lily replied, turning to him. “But I have no idea why. What happened to him?”

He stared at her. “What happened to _ him?_ He was serving Voldemort!” he reminded her, wondering if perhaps she lost some memories in her absence, or if she hadn’t connected Sirius being Secret-Keeper to the Dark Lord’s attack. “He betrayed you and James when you trusted him to protect you. He murdered _ Peter_. Voldemort almost won because of him!”

Now she was the one staring, and he considered bringing her to St. Mungo’s, or to Madam Pomfrey at Hogwarts.

Then her next words chilled him, and made _ him _want to be checked.

“Moony,” she said slowly. He flinched, because no one had called him that in over a decade. She continued in the same pace, as if he were the one who was gone for twelve years and didn’t know things, who needed gentle care. “Moony, Peter was our Secret-Keeper. He was the one who betrayed us.” 

Remus let out a strangled sort of laugh, and opened his mouth to protest, but Lily continued. He received many shocks in the rushed explanation that followed. Lily told him what happened that Halloween night all those years ago. How it was Sirius’ idea to entrust the role to Peter, in the hopes of their family being safer if the Secret-Keeper was a less likely target. How she was certain Sirius didn’t kill those Muggles, that Peter probably betrayed him, too.

He collapsed against the wall, elbows resting on his knees. After a while, Lily crouched beside him, ignoring the grime getting on her robes.

“I can’t stay for long,” she whispered regretfully. “Not now, not when Harry is so close. I can’t miss him before he goes to King’s Cross tomorrow.” She bit her lip. “If there’s anything you can tell me, please do. I haven’t really had the time to read the _ Prophet _ since my… return.”

Once he could speak, he told her what little he knew. He had been laying low as a nomad, but even he knew who the Minister was and the general happenings reported in the papers. 

“How are you alive, Lily?” he asked, finally voicing out the question constantly playing in the back of his mind. 

She shrugged, a response that frustrated him a bit. “I’m not entirely certain,” she admitted. “But I decided to look into that later, after I found Harry.”

“So James…”

Lily gave a sad smile and touched his shoulder. “He’s dead, Moony. I heard him die that night.”

There was another moment of silence, then Remus took a deep breath. He continued with his story, summarizing the post-war efforts, which Death Eaters were imprisoned and who got away with lighter sentences. He informed her of the renown she gained after the war. That she was a war hero, practically a saint.

She wrinkled her nose at this, but then snapped to attention when he said that her son was the Boy-Who-Lived, and everyone in the wizarding world knew his name. Remus didn’t expect that the public interest had completely died down just because he was another student at Hogwarts right now.

He explained, in a quieter tone, that it was a whispered sentiment among the people who fought in the war that Voldemort will eventually return, and Harry will defeat him.

She swore rather colourfully. “I suppose he’s been raised with those unreasonable expectations all this time.”

“I… don’t know, but he’s in safe hands,” he assured her. She didn’t look convinced, but she didn’t lash out, so he felt brave enough to continue. “We need to have Sirius freed of all charges, Lily.”

“Of course,” she replied immediately, to his relief. “But I have to find Harry first, and talk to him. Try to find our balance. I’m sorry, but he’s my first priority.”

“And I’m not sure that a sudden public comeback from you will be wise,” he added, hope falling. “But I have to do something! Sirius, he…” No one would listen to him if he made noise by himself...

“Moony?”

“I’ll go to Dumbledore,” he decided, standing up. “He’ll think of something, he’ll help if he knows you’re back, and that Sirius is innocent.”

He didn’t understand the uncertain look on Lily’s face, but he had a direction to follow now.

“Okay,” she finally replied, rising. “I’ll be with Harry. I don’t know how long our conversation will take, but an owl should reach me, I think.”

They came up with a rough plan for how to approach Harry. Remus admittedly wasn’t updated in the goings-on of the boy’s life, and he silently promised to resolve that. 

He didn’t like the idea of Lily letting the innkeeper know her identity just yet, but she said she trusted Tom, and Remus trusted Lily. 

“I’ll go straight to Hogwarts after owling ahead,” he said after they finished. “I’ll tell Dumbledore, and anyone else that can help, so that we could start on freeing Sirius.”

Lily nodded. “I’ll go to Harry now. Keep in touch, and take care, Moony.”

Remus had noted how antsy she was the whole conversation, but despite her obvious longing to go find Harry, she stayed and spoke and listened. It wasn’t lost on Remus that he hadn’t had a proper conversation like that in years. Lily hadn’t changed in her gentle care, and that made both guilt and gratitude flow through him.

She hugged him before they parted ways, and again, the reminder of the impossible _ life _in her left him winded.

He leaned back against the wall for a moment, barely registering that a single tear trailed down his cheek. 

_ Sirius_. The name was both a scolding and a push. 

Remus left the shadowed corner they had been in. He headed towards the nearest owl post to carry out his side of the plan. A Patronus would’ve been much quicker, but he didn’t think he could produce even a mist with his currently tumultuous emotions.

Alone, he now had no choice but to face the situation’s biggest surprise, and the most unpleasant of all: that he, Remus Lupin, could be so monumentally stupid.

* * *

Tom had taken Harry aside. The boy had barely greeted Mr. Weasley when the innkeeper approached him, saying something about a problem with his owl. 

That worried him, but he waved his friends away as he followed Tom up the stairs.

“What’s wrong with Hedwig?” he asked. She did rather loud when she spent too long in her cage, but Harry remembered unlocking it this morning. He only locked it in the first place because at night she would be bothered by… “Did the monster book escape again?”

“Your owl is fine, Mr. Potter,” was the reply, much to his confusion.

“Then what…” 

“I apologise for the deception,” Tom said, stopping once they reached the second floor. “There is a guest in your room, and they thought it might be best that you two meet privately, before any of your friends catch on. They wish to remain anonymous until you meet them.”

Now, Harry’s experiences taught him that this was highly suspicious. He thought Tom was friendly enough, and the Ministry seemed to trust the innkeeper’s discretion, but…

“Why can’t my friends know?” he asked, frowning.

Tom looked shifted very slightly. Harry would have missed it if he hadn’t spent so much of his childhood preparing to dodge blows. His distrust remained, and he repeated the question, adding that this person could have waited for him in the parlor Fudge took him to.

“This is a more delicate situation, Mr. Potter - it’s a matter of your family.”

Now Harry was even more confused, because he thought he wouldn’t have to deal with the Dursleys until next summer. Tom must have caught on because he quickly added, “I meant the _ Potter _ family, of course.”

Harry stilled. _ Well, _ he thought wryly. _ That’s the way to get me waltzing into dangerous situations. _

The acknowledgment did not lessen the temptation. Harry began to reason with himself that Tom didn’t seem malicious, Hagrid was pals with him, if he recalled correctly, and the Minister himself seemed to trust him…

“Fine,” he accepted, as if there was any way he wouldn’t have given in.

Tom gave a delighted, toothless smile. “Marvelous! I will now leave you to your privacy, of course, but please do not hesitate to ask for anything you need later, anything at all.”

With that, he returned downstairs, and Harry started walking towards his room. He hesitated outside the door, and wondered if the thrumming he felt was nerves.

He carefully opened the door.

By his window, a lady sat on a red armchair that wasn’t there this morning. She stood up when the door opened, and was staring straight at him, causing him to blanch.

She was beautiful. Her red hair was not quite as bright as the Weasleys’, but was still vibrant, flowing down her shoulders in waves. Her skin was pale, almost glowing, and the hands she was clasping by her waist were slender. 

She had his eyes. 

“Harry?” she whispered. Her voice was soft, smooth, comforting. 

She had his eyes, and it _ terrified _him.

When she took a step towards him, he quickly backed away and pulled out his wand to point at her. 

“What the fuck?” he muttered. He wanted to yell, but couldn’t seem to break the quiet tension in the room. “What the fuck. Who are you?”

The woman swallowed and held her hands up in an attempt to placate. The emerald of her eyes shone. A brace wrapped around Harry’s heart and anchored it to his stomach. 

“Harry, I know this must be confusing,” she said. “Unexpected, surely, but… don’t you feel it?”

“No!” he shouted immediately, glad that he found his rage. Rage was good and familiar. “Is this some kind of joke?!”

“My name is Lily Potter,” she said, walking towards him slowly. “Harry, I know it’s hard to believe, but I’m your mother.” 

He knew, of course, that it could only be her. He knew there was no way it could be anyone else in front of him right now, emanating _ warmth _ and _ comfort _ and _ joy. _

But he couldn’t trust that. He couldn’t. _ It’s a trick! _ he scolded himself. _ It’s a cruel magic trick. _He let out a strangled laugh, ignoring her concerned expression - 

“My mother is dead,” he spat bitterly. And that was the harsh truth, wasn’t it? The only truth he’d ever known - shoved into his head for as long as he could remember, embedded just as much as his scar was.

“She died to save me when I was a baby,” he told this woman with the same angry conviction. But the wand in his hand was shaking violently.

She nodded at once. “That’s what I intended to do, but for some reason I lived. I’m not sure yet, but I had to go to you first before seeking information. Harry.” Her voice broke, and her tears fell. “I would have returned to you long ago if I had the ability to. I’m so sorry, sweetheart, but from now on, I’m here. I’m so _ sorry_.”

He didn’t know what to say. His tongue was lead and the back of his eyes prickled, and that only made him want to curse _ her _eyes. 

He wished he knew how, so that she’d _ stop looking at him like that. _

“Whoever you are,” he forced out. “I want you to go away. Now.” 

Her lip trembled. “Harry, it’s _ me. _”

“Shut up! Shut _ up, _ I have protection here, I don’t know how you fooled Tom, but Mr. Weasley-”

She closed her eyes, as if in pain. “Did you ever get back your father’s Invisibility Cloak?” she asked, in a desperate tone he didn’t expect.

He just stared at her. 

“After you were born, it took a while for James to learn that it wasn’t wise to leave the cloak around a crawling baby. I was _ furious _,” she continued, ignoring the tears falling down her cheeks earnestly. 

“What are you-”

“Do you play Quidditch? Your favourite gift on your first birthday was the broom your godfather gave you. We were in hiding, so you didn’t receive much, but that toy broom was enough to assure your happiness.” She smiled wryly. “James always said you were a natural, but I reminded him that he’d have to accept that in any case, you weren’t to be a carbon copy of him.”

Harry stayed silent. It was _ unfair_, it was unfair that she said all these things he _ had _to listen to even if a big part of him wanted her to stop.

“You never went outside that whole year,” she pressed on, and Harry watched as a tear dropped from her chin, from the corner of her unwavering smile. “I hated it, that you couldn’t be free to breathe in fresh air, that your life was locked in a box for the foreseeable future. Harry, I’m so _ glad _ that it’s different now.”

This was too much. How was he supposed to react here? What was he supposed to feel? He felt his own tears escape, and he sunk down onto the floor, wrapping his arms around his knees as he sobbed. 

His initial terror wasn’t caused by her, he understood now. It was caused by the surge of feelings he didn’t know what to do with. He was drowning in them, and his heart was being squeezed, forcing out his whimpers in an attempt to keep him afloat. 

He heard her approach, and after a moment, she kneeled and took him in her arms. He didn’t push her away.

“Harry, I know it seems impossible,” she whispered against his hair. “But it’s me, I promise. I know I’ve failed you, that I have _years_ to make up for. I don’t expect your trust or forgiveness, but please allow me to try to earn it.”

His sniffles were muffled into his forearms, but he could still smell something like lavender coming from her. It was comforting, but less so than it was _ painful. _

“I love you, sweetheart. I always have, but it’s even greater than it was before, which I didn’t think was possible. My heart is attuned to you now, there’s a bond I feel that led me back to you.

“You might be able to feel it, it’s okay if you don’t, but for me, it’s like a rope is wrapped around my heart and extends out towards where your magic is. It’s so warm, sweetheart, warmer and more comforting than anything I’ve ever felt.”

He understood what she was referring to, he could feel wisps of something cradling his core. He didn’t want to believe it, to dare trust it, but it was there.

“You don’t have to believe me, sweetheart. You _ don’t_. It’s my job to prove it to you, and I will, Harry. I’ll show you how much I love you” - his whimper turned halfway into a sob - “I do, darling boy, I love you so much…”

Harry knew he was breaking. Maybe broken already, as soon as he first looked into her eyes. This could be a mistake, a trap, but what was he supposed to _ do _ in the face of his greatest desire? 

He remembered the Mirror of Erised in his first year, the image of his parents, and Professor Dumbledore’s warnings about wizards being lost into the mirror’s reflection. He thought he understood at the time.

“Mum?” he tried, closing his eyes and shifted to lean against her.

He heard Lily breath out as she tightened her hug. “Yes, sweetheart. I’m here,” she promised.

He didn’t want to resist anymore.

“Mum!” Harry wailed, finally clutching at her. He wept and wept and wept, and Lily just held him, whispering words meant to soothe. He could feel her tears in his hair.

“Mum,” he repeated like a mantra. “Mum. _ Mum. _Mummy…”

“I’m here, sweetheart,” she kept saying. “I’ll never leave you, okay? I’m here to stay.”

His tears never seemed to end, his whole body shuddering in his mother’s hold.

He had never cried this much in his life, had learned early on that it wouldn’t get him anywhere. But Lily didn’t shy away, didn’t release him in disgust. If anything, she just held him more firmly, carefully arranging them into a more comfortable position on the floor. 

This just made the thought of repulsing her even scarier. “Please don’t leave me,” he begged into her chest.

“Shh, sweetheart, of course I won’t, I’ll blast anyone who even _ tries _to force us apart…” She presses her lips against his temple. “I’m so sorry you ever had to be without me, but I’m here from now on, I promise.”

And so it went. Harry wept, then had breaks wherein he thought he was done, only to break down in uncontrollable sobs once more. This cycle continued for what seemed like hours, but Lily’s assurances never wavered. 

When he calmed down for more than a few minutes, she guided him towards the bed. She waved her wand to conjure a glass, and filled it with water from a quiet _ Aguamenti. _

“Drink, sweetheart,” she encouraged, tipping the glass near his mouth. He swallowed, and held the glass on his own to finish it.

She lay him down gently, removing his shoes and pulling the covers over him. Exhaustion made him want to sink into the soft mattress and sleep, but he struggled against it.

He didn’t want to wake up later only to discover that it was all a dream. 

“Rest for now, Harry,” she said gently, straightening. But he whimpered and reached for her wrist.

Lily's smile was a little sad, and her eyes, the eyes Harry only ever expected to see in a mirror, were shining. 

She sat on the empty side of the bed and settled beside him. Harry curled towards her, and asked again that she not leave.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” she murmured softly. She stroked his hair, and Harry felt himself slowly succumbing to sleep. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

He trusted her, but he didn’t trust his luck. Still, Harry allowed the tapestry to fall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so the ball starts rolling.


	5. The First Threads

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you thank YOU for all the support so far!
> 
> (this is probably the part where I should emphasize that I’m writing this for my own enjoyment, which is true, but screw that, the Validation is Sweet)
> 
> UPDATE - 26 Nov 2019: I uploaded the wrong version - I'm a paranoid editor but my constant vigilance still needs work. My bad! Only notable change is in regards to Lily's proof of identification for Ragnok.

Remus reached Hogsmeade quickly. He could feel wary stares from the people milling about, his shabby clothes and ill complexion making him stick out. Nothing he wasn’t used to.

He rushed to the edge of the Hogwarts wards, feeling them shift and meld to welcome him. 

He had missed the warmth of Hogwarts, but the reminder of his childhood adventures just made him pick up the pace.

McGonagall - he couldn’t bring himself to call her Minerva yet, even though they were effectively colleagues - was waiting at the stone entrance. She beckoned him to follow her inside.

“Professor,” he greeted, inclining his head. 

The tall, stern witch tsked. “I’ll forgive you for that since the school year doesn’t officially start until tomorrow evening, Remus,” she told him. “Now, what is the matter? I was quite alarmed when Albus told me of your owl saying that you need to discuss something urgently. We did not expect you until the feast tomorrow.”

They passed many rooms and paintings familiar to him. “I’ll explain it all to you and Professor Dumbledore,” he said, tone apologetic. “But I assure you, it’s of utmost importance.”

“Of course I believe that, Remus Lupin,” she scolded. “Merlin knows your old Head of House wouldn’t have heard from you unless it was.” Her accusing tone filled him with shame, but he didn’t reply. 

They stopped in front of the old stone gargoyle that Remus saw whenever he got roped into James’ and Sirius’ shenanigans, meaning it was a familiar sight.

“Cockroach Clusters,” McGonagall announced, and a repressed part of Remus thought that was an apt summary of the situation.

They entered to see the Headmaster.

* * *

Daylight had faded since Harry went to sleep, but as she promised, Lily didn’t leave. At some point, she found a book to read, but she kept glancing back at her son, thankful for each breath he took. 

She removed his glasses after he drifted off, and noticed for the first time the apparently infamous scar.

A part of her loathed it. How _ dare _ that bastard mark her son? Tie Harry’s fate to his? She remembered the damned prophecy, and now the lightning bolt that people basically worshiped seemed to mock her. _ You weren’t there. He was a baby, and you left him alone with that madman. He had to save himself. _

But that was the egoistic part of her, the part that couldn’t deal with the reminder of failure. The part that wasn’t a mother. _ That _part simply accepted it as part of Harry. No matter how many scars and marks and little quirks, he is her son, who she loves completely.

She leaned over him and kissed his forehead, and then the top of his messy hair. The bond between them hummed. 

She felt Harry stir, and she reached for his hand, letting him feel her presence.

He opened his eyes, blinking, and she handed him his glasses. “Mum?” he yawned.

Lily couldn’t help but smile at the term. “Did you rest well, sweetheart?”

He blinked a few more times, then sat up straight. “You’re here!” His voice was filled with wonder.

She squeezed his hand. “I promised, didn’t I?” she reminded him. He seemed a little embarrassed, so she let go, only for him to reach out and give her a hug.

“I’m glad,” he whispered. She gave herself a few moments to hold him, before asking if he was hungry.

He looked towards the night sky outside his window. “How long was I asleep?” he asked.

“A few hours,” she told him, leaving the book on the bed as she stood up. “Here, Tom brought us an early dinner, and an assurance that your friends weren’t worried. Much.” 

She went to the small table Tom conjured earlier, and Harry followed her. He quickly dug into the roast and mashed potatoes. 

“They’re always worried,” Harry said after a big gulp of juice. “I wonder what Tom had to tell them.”

“Knowing Old Tom, probably nothing at all,” she chuckled. “Would you like to reassure them that you’re alright?”

Harry looked conflicted at this question, and he was slowly cutting into his food. “I want you to meet them,” he said, but the uncertainty was still there.

Lily put down her spoon and reached for him. “I don’t have to, if you don’t want me to.” 

He shook his head quickly. “I do! They’ve been great. I want you to know each other, especially my best friends, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. But…” He seemed too uncomfortable to elaborate further. 

Lily decided that if they were to have an understanding as mother and son, she ought to begin with clearly communicating her thoughts, in hopes he would do the same.

“Okay, I’ll be honest,” she said with a wry grin. “I’m not exactly ready to share you with the world yet, especially if you have to leave for school tomorrow. If you and your friends will forgive me afterwards, may we go around Diagon Alley tomorrow morning before you have to go to King’s Cross?” 

“What about tonight?”

“Well, we could talk, if you feel up to it. I feel like we have a lot to say to each other, and I would love to hear about school, your friends… I’m sure Tom can assure them that you’re all packed and ready. What do you say?”

“I think that’d be brilliant,” Harry said, grinning brightly and going back to his food. 

Lily relaxed, glad that she hadn’t made a mistake their first night together by being too imposing. 

They finished their food quickly after that, and the plates vanished once empty. 

“Where will you sleep?” Harry asked, looking at the bed, which was a tad small for two people. 

“Tom was nice enough to give me the suite,” she assured him. He nodded, and bit his lip.

“Mum, could we-” 

“Would you like to-”

They both cut off, giggling.

“Would you like to have dessert there?” she tried, and seemed to get it right again when he nodded with much more eagerness.

“I can use my Invisibility Cloak so that the Weasleys don’t see me,” he said, digging into his trunk. He held up the familiar cloak triumphantly. 

“I’m glad it was returned to you.” 

“Professor Dumbledore did, at my first Christmas at Hogwarts.” Her smile faltered as she pulled her hood up, and gestured him to follow. 

She left the room, and started walking once the door closed on its own. Fortunately, all the patrons seems to be at dinner, and they reached her suite without any interruptions. 

She held the door open for Harry, and followed inside when she felt a slight whoosh pass her. He pulled the cloak off right away.

“Wow,” Harry commented, looking around at the mini parlor, large windows, and the canopied queen-sized bed further inside, connected to a large bathroom. “I didn’t know the Leaky had a place like this.”

“Tom always seemed to have a soft spot for me,” she joked. There was treacle tart on the coffee table and she beckoned him to sit down. She watched him dig in the dessert with even more enthusiasm than dinner.

“Do you like sweets?” 

He chewed carefully, and swallowed. “I like treacle tart.”

Lily nodded, tucking away that bit of information with much care. “I’m glad to know,” she told him, taking a tiny bite of her own portion. “You’re far too thin, sweetheart.” 

“That’s what Mrs. Weasley says.” 

“I find myself liking her already, then. Is she the mother of your friend, Ron?”

He nodded. “Yeah, she’s really great. Ron was my first friend ever, and I spent last summer at their house. The Weasleys have a big family, and five of them are in Hogwarts. Their house is like wonky Lego,” he paused, then seemed to remember that she was Muggleborn. “And they have a big garden with funny gnomes that enjoy being thrown around. It was brilliant.”

She couldn’t help but bask in his shining eyes, even if he was talking of experiences she wasn’t present for. “I’m glad you have friends you can spend time with.” 

Unfortunately, that reminded Lily of the nasty welcoming she got at Petunia’s. “Actually, when I was looking for you, I stumbled upon your aunt’s house,” she broached lightly, gauging his reaction.

His face shifted into a neutral mask that she immediately never wanted to see again. “Y-yeah?” 

“Well, a lot of accusations and yelling occurred,” she said, adding some sugar to her tea. Harry’s jaw clenched, she noticed. “I’m afraid we’re going to have some trouble with the Ministry if they catch wind that Vernon Dursley can’t speak louder than a whisper ever again.” She wrinkled her nose.

Harry relaxed, and even managed to grin. “Did you...?”

“Indeed,” she said matter-of-factly. “He had a lot of unpleasant things to shout in my ear. I’m surprised anyone in that family can still hear properly.”

“Did you see - you saw Aunt Petunia, then?”

She put her teacup down. “Yes, as well as your cousin, and… sweetheart, there were… signs that your life with them wasn’t entirely pleasant, if at all,” she said seriously. 

There was no reply other than uncomfortable shifting.

“Harry, this might be difficult to discuss, but it needs to be.”

“There’s... not really much to say,” he muttered, looking down at his plate. “They didn’t like me, and I didn’t like them.”

She waited, but he remained silent, refusing to make eye contact with her.

“Harry,” she said gently. She wanted to reach out to him, but it might not be welcome right now. “Harry, this is something I need to know. Forget about Petunia being my sister, _ you _ matter to me most. Were you hurt in that household?”

Slowly, he nodded, and her hand itched to be curled into a fist, but she had to remain calm in front of him. “Not much, though,” he amended weakly. “I’m sure loads of kids had worse.”

Lily got up, and knelt in front of him. “Can you tell me more?”

“I don’t know, I… they treated me different from Dudley, I guess.”

“How?” 

“He got loads of presents all the time. He got to do whatever he wanted. His room was filled with toys…” When he reached for her, she held his hands and showed she was listening. “And… he ate whatever he wanted. If you saw him, well, he’s well-fed.”

“They _ starved you_?”

“No! Erm, well, not really? I had to do chores first, before I could eat. Cooking, gardening…” 

Harry fiddled with his fingers, but she smoothed them and squeezed. 

“They really hate magic, though I don’t really get why, other than Aunt Petunia hating you,” he confessed. “They didn’t like when I reminded them of anything… freaky.”

Lily fumed, remembering Vernon’s words, and wished she used a worse spell on the brute. 

And Petunia… she knew that Petunia disliked her greatly, hated her even, like Harry said, but to treat her nephew, a little _ boy _ with anything less than kindness…

Lily never intended that Harry be left with them at the time of their deaths, but she would never have expected that they would treat Harry cruelly.

She wanted to yell and scream, perhaps return to that house and blow it up, find whoever decided to put Harry there, and blow _ them _up, but held herself back when she focused on Harry.

He was fidgeting again, obviously wanting to end the conversation. But he waited, presumably for further questions.

Then she understood that he was trying _ very hard _to talk about this, to satisfy her need for information at the expense of his comfort.

“We don’t have to discuss anymore tonight,” she decided, guilt prickling when he sagged in relief. “But we have to, preferably in the near future.”

“Why?”

“Because I want to make sure their punishment will fit their crimes,” she answered honestly. “And I want to make sure their treatment of you has no lingering effects, that you’ll be okay.”

“I _ am _okay-”

“Harry.” He jolted, and looked down again. She wanted to kick herself. 

“Harry,” she repeated more gently. “It is a very wonderful thing if you’re alright, but I just want to make sure. I’m your mother, after all.”

Harry looked up at her with surprised eyes, as if he’d forgotten that she was supposed to take care of him.

“You do know that you aren’t what they say you are, right?” she asked him, feeling like she was pushing him a bit, but also urgently needing to know. “That you aren’t a… freak, or whatever other nonsense they called you?”

“Of course,” he said, but he hesitated, which added to the things they needed to unpack further. For tonight, however, he had shared enough.

She hugged him. “Thank you for telling me,” she said. “You’re so brave, sweetheart, for being as honest as you were.”

“We’ll have to talk about it more,” she told him again, cupping his cheek. “But not now. They are horrible, and they lied to you, and I won’t let them ruin our first evening together. Even when we have further discussions, be assured that you _ never _ have to see them again. _ I’ll _deal with them. Alright?” 

He nodded, relaxing. “You don’t really have to,” he tried to assure her in turn. “You’re here now, so it’s fine.”

“I do have to,” Lily maintained, though she appreciated the sentiment. “I won’t ever let anyone get away with hurting you, Harry, even if you handle it well. Even just calling you names makes me want to make their tongues bloat up. I’m actually pretty sure I don’t have the ability to let it go, or I’ll spontaneously pop.”

That got him to laugh a little. “Thanks, Mum.”

Satisfied with his improved mood, she got up to sit beside him on the couch, and started to fulfill her promise of stories. She started with little anecdotes about her Hogwarts letter, her fascination with Diagon Alley and her subsequent friendship with Tom downstairs.

But she was a little self-indulgent, more often than not redirecting the conversation towards him. She hung onto every word he spoke about school, pulled him closer when she heard about Hermione, who was Muggleborn, and very intelligent, and Ron, who was very good at chess, and how the three of them protected the... _ Philosopher’s Stone? _She seriously considered not letting him go back to Hogwarts when he got to the Chamber of Secrets and killing a giant basilisk all alone, but she remained calm, and listened to Harry’s enthusiastic sharing.

“Oh!” he suddenly exclaimed, in the middle of telling her how Hermione was taking _ all _ the new classes and bought so many books that he doubts she’ll be able to carry them all everyday. “How’d you get the monster book to calm down, Mum? I saw it with you when I woke up, but then I forgot.”

“I stroked the spine,” she replied, confused and worried. “Wild, loud things tend to succumb to a little pampering. Harry, why would you buy a violent book you didn’t know how to open?”

“I didn’t choose it - Hagrid sent it to me,” he said, a little defensive. “It’s required for third years. The shopkeeper didn’t know how to deal with it either!”

She absently stroked his hair. “I’m not angry, just a little confused about why the school would require a book like that without giving away any instructions.”

“Oh…” It was quite worrying that students and staff alike seemed to just brush off all these potentially dangerous scenarios, but Lily just added it to her growing list of concerns to bring up with Dumbledore, and whoever else was in charge. 

“You mentioned Hagrid, the gamekeeper?” She might have words with him, too, actually, about keeping the game _ away _ from the children.

Harry perked up. “Yeah, he’s my friend! He has us over for tea sometimes.” 

She quirked her lips. “With rock cakes that you feed to Fang?”

“Yeah!” he replied, looking very pleased at something so simple. 

“Yes, well, Hagrid is very nice, but I do hope he doesn’t lead you to a nest of acromantulas now that he’s cleared of all charges.” 

“Yeah,” he said again. “Though I hope he doesn’t eventually leave Hogwarts.”

She hummed. “I don’t think it’d do him much good to,” she said. “At least, for now. It’d open more opportunities for him if he got his wand back and finished his education.” 

“Like as a student? Do you think they’d allow him to enroll in Hogwarts again?” 

“Well, I don’t make the decisions, but I think it’s only fair, considering it turns out he didn’t deserve expulsion in the first place.”

He nodded excitedly. “That’d be really cool. I think he’d be happy with that. He could stop hiding his wand in this umbrella.” 

Lily’s heart warmed at the casual kindness. “I hope all goes well.” 

She remembered something she should’ve discussed earlier. “Harry, there’s something I have to tell you about this coming school year.” 

“Is it about the criminal on the run?” he guessed. 

She startled. “No, I was going to say... your new DADA professor was an old friend… Harry,” she pressed. “What do you know about Sirius Black?”

“Not much, just that he killed thirteen people with a single curse. And that he’s the first to escape Azkaban. Did you encounter him back in the war?”

”Harry, listen.” She needed to clear this up at once. “Sirius Black was your father’s best friend.”

His brow furrowed. “Black, the murderer? But I thought he served -” a scowl appeared “- unless he _ betrayed _-”

“No, no, sweetheart. He didn’t betray our side,” she rushed to explain. “It was all a mistake, and people believed he did.” She told him the real story of that night, and how Sirius would never have killed innocent Muggles, how he detested everything Voldemort stood for.

He didn’t flinch at the name, though he surely knew it. _ Good. _

“He would have died to protect us, but in the mess of the war… The times then didn’t really encourage trust, even among friends.”

“Why did he trust the Pettigrew guy, then?” Harry asked.

“Peter… he was childhood friends with both Sirius and James, as well as Remus Lupin, your new teacher, actually… None of us expected that Peter, who was very shy and meek, would throw that all away. We made a fatal mistake.” She couldn’t help but grit her teeth. Fatal, indeed. Even she hadn’t completely come to terms with the betrayal yet.

“So it’s Pettigrew that should be in Azkaban?” Harry was frowning. “He killed the Muggles?”

“I have no concrete evidence yet, but yes, I think so.”

Harry looked distraught, even when she brushed his hair off his forehead. “Everyone’s been saying how the Azkaban guards are terrifying, the Knight Bus blokes couldn’t even talk about them. Hagrid looked like he was walking to his death when Fudge took him away, and Sirius Black spent twelve years in that place full of them for no reason?! No wonder he went mad. That’s not fair!” 

“No, it’s not,” Lily agreed. “It’s a terrible place, Azkaban. The worst of the guards are called Dementors - they suck all the happiness out of any place they enter.”

He looked horrified at this. “That’s… you’re going to tell the Ministry the truth about Black, right?”

“Of course, sweetheart. Remus and I are working on it.”

“This morning, you said I had a godfather,” he realized. “Was it him, if he was Dad’s best mate?”

It was the first time he brought up James. He hadn’t asked if he was alive, like Moony had, so she supposed he understood. It reminded her that she needed to tell him more about his other parent, the one that would never get to spend time with him.

She nodded. “Your christening had to be quick and secret, and Sirius was the only person we could completely trust, especially regarding you. Your grandparents on your father’s side, who lived in Godric’s Hollow, died the year before, so it was only him.”

“Why did no one tell me?” Harry asked, expression somewhere between confused and annoyed. “Why did no one tell me I had a godfather? I would have liked to know about my grandparents, too… And if you and Dad had friends like the new Professor, there would be others still out there, right? Even if I had to stay with the Dursleys, no one else really…”

“I don’t know, Harry, but I would like to get some answers, as well.”

“I knew adults were hiding a lot of things from me,” he said with a grimace. “But why do I have to know so little about my own family? Were they lying when they said there was no one else I could have lived with?”

“I don’t know what they intended, but you will live with me from now on. Furthermore, I _ promise _ I will always be honest with you,” she vowed, looking straight into his bright, trusting eyes. “If there’s something I can’t or won’t say, I will always tell you why. No matter what, you will always hear the truth from me.”

He leaned against her. “I believe you,” he whispered, and Lily wondered how anyone looked at this boy and decided he wasn’t worthy of care and love.

“However, I’m not as informed as I would like,” she admitted. “I need to talk to a lot of old friends and acquaintances since I haven’t been within reach of the wizarding world in years.”

“Where were you-” Harry was interrupted by a loud hooting. Lily approached the large window, and let the tawny owl inside.

“I’m sorry I don’t have treats,” she said, but a few gently strokes seemed to be enough. She untied the letter addressed to her and went back to Harry.

“Who’s that from, Mum?”

“It’s from Remus,” she replied, beginning to read as Harry shuffled closer. “He saw me in Knockturn Alley, and we briefly spoke before I found you. That’s how I found out about his Hogwarts post.”

The content of the letter was not quite the summons she expected.

“What did he say?” he asked when she finished, folding the parchment up to tuck away.

“Apparently he decided not to tell Dumbledore that I’ve returned,” she relayed thoughtfully. “He wants us to contact Sirius before doing anything drastic to clear his name...”

“Why not tell Professor Dumbledore? If anyone can help it’s - oh,” he stopped. “Do you not trust him?”

She noticed his slightly disappointed expression.

“I don’t really know who to trust yet, sweetheart,” she said. “And I don’t know why Remus decided that way, but if anything, I do know that he cares enough about Sirius to be straight with me about this issue.”

“Why don’t you meet at Hogwarts?” Harry asked with sudden excitement. “You and Professor Lupin, I mean.”

“I don’t think it would be wise, especially if I’m to hide at his request. And if we want to contact Sirius, a school isn’t the best place to harbor a wanted man,” she reasoned. “Besides, I’d be tempted to hover over you, and you have to spend time with your friends, yes?”

“I don’t mind you being there,” he argued, miffed.

She poked his nose, laughing at his shocked protests. “Sweetheart, as much as I’d love to meet all your friends, I think we have to be careful. It’s a delicate situation.”

Harry sighed. “I’m glad that Sirius Black will get free, but…”

She understood how he felt, and told him so. When he still looked crestfallen, she poked his arm repeatedly in an attempt to make him smile.

In truth, she hated that they had to separate again so soon, but knew that his schooling was important and that she couldn’t be with him every minute of the day.

“We’ll have tomorrow morning,” she reminded him. “We have to go to Gringotts to settle accounts, but afterwards you’ll show me around, won’t you? I haven’t been here in years, after all.”

He nodded, perking up a bit. 

* * *

Early next morning, Harry was still very disappointed that he couldn’t spend more time with his mum. He realized that this was the first time ever that he wasn’t wholeheartedly looking forward to Hogwarts, but this didn’t change his sullen mood.

He had fallen asleep on the couch in Lily’s suite, after hours of storytelling, swallowing his yawns, and changing the topic when she asked if he wanted to go to bed.

This sky was still dark when he woke up, barely able to open his eyes. He was on his mum’s much bigger bed, his glasses on the nightstand, a set of his clothes at his feet. Lily was nowhere to be seen.

There was less panic now than when he woke up yesterday, but anxiety still reigned as he used the attached loo, and changed his clothes.

He heard the door to the suite open, and rushed out to the sitting area. “Harry?” Lily called, to his immense relief.

“Hi!” 

She smiled - she was always smiling at him, which was really nice - and went over to kiss him good morning. She had also changed, and she was wearing trousers and a top with long sleeves. Her red hair was tied back into a ponytail. “I had to step out,” she apologized. “I needed to inform Tom that I’ll be extending my stay.”

“Why?” Secretly, Harry still hoped that something would make her go to Hogwarts and maybe, just maybe, stay there. He didn’t really care if anyone made fun of him for wanting his mum around - for one thing, he knew how Malfoy was about his own parents, the spoiled git.

“Well, I have no idea about the state of our properties,” she explained. “I’ll have to take care of all those boring things while you’re away. I’m glad to have you in Gringotts today, though I’m sure the goblins will call for me too many times after.”

Harry was a little confused. He wished he would stop feeling that way after every little thing his mother said - she might think him slow. “Properties?”

“Yes, the Potter properties,” she said, raising an eyebrow. “And I suppose the Muggle one from my parents, but it’s really the ones from your dad’s side that need handling.”

“Oh,” Harry slumped. “I didn’t know. I thought we only had the vault.”

She looked concerned. “Yes, James and I did set up a vault with a portion of the wizarding money for your needs, but did no one inform you about the rest? That part of the inheritance was supposed to be bequeathed to you once you turned seventeen.”

Lily pursed her lips when he shook his head. 

“Well, it’s good that we’ll be doing Gringotts right after breakfast then.”

And they did. Harry ate quietly, his mind racing at all the new information he had just from the last twenty-hour hours. Lily told him much more than anyone else did by a hundred times over. And hopefully, she would keep her promise to tell him a lot more.

He thought of the apparently incomplete inheritance he had access to. He wasn’t complaining about the money - what he thought he had before was more than enough. But he realized that he didn’t really know anything at all about the Potter line, or the Evans, even though he lived with Aunt Petunia.

The reminder of his aunt made him remember his mum vowing that he never had to return to Privet Drive. That was always his greatest wish, and now he had it, plus more than he ever hoped for.

Cheered up, he went downstairs with Lily. One or two patrons were draped over their tables, snoring, probably from the night before. Tom, already working at the early hour, gave them a toothless grin as they greeted him, before heading to Diagon Alley.

The street was empty, and only a few shops had lights. It was the first time Harry saw Diagon as the sun rose, and it was beautifully peaceful.

“The bank is open at all hours,” Lily explained as they walked. “The goblins would never leave the gold unattended, even with all the safety measures. I think even the off-duty staff sleep there.”

It was easier for them to be out in the open, too. Harry was glad for every delay in the fuss that was sure to come.

They entered the bank, and sure enough, the goblins were bustling about the same way they did during the crowded hours. 

Lily approached one. “Good morning,” she greeted. “Is Master Ragnok on duty?”

“Who is asking?” the goblin replied, not looking up from the papers he was perusing. 

“Lily Potter.” 

The goblin stilled, and looked up. He still had the same curt expression as all the others, but Harry guessed he was shocked. _ I mean, how could he not be? _

“Your blood for identification?”

Harry was never asked for identification, but it made sense in this case. It was a little funny how the goblin widened his eyes when Lily easily pricked her finger and let a drop of blood on the parchment he held out.

“I shall fetch Master Ragnok,” he announced, and left. He returned with an equally scowling goblin with round spectacles similar to Harry’s.

“Master Ragnok,” Lily greeted cheerfully. “I’m so glad to see you.”

“Mrs. Potter.” He turned and walked away. Without missing a beat, Lily followed, leading Harry. The first goblin had already returned to his work, ignoring them.

Ragnok led them to what could’ve been another vault, but had a desk and piles of parchment filling it up. Lily sat on the chair in front of the desk and Harry sat opposite her.

Master Ragnok adjusted his spectacles. “You are here for the reestablishment of the Potter and Evans accounts, of course?”

“Yes,” Lily replied, while Harry wondered why there was a separate Evans account. 

Ragnok slid handed her a scroll, which she gave Harry. 

“Go on,” she told him. “I’m sure you’re very interested.” 

Harry glanced at Ragnok, but the goblin said nothing. Harry opened the clasp of the scroll. Its full length reached the floor, where it extended to about twice his height. The heading read _ All accounts of gold, treasures, heirlooms, and properties entrusted to Gringotts Wizarding Bank by the Ancient House of Potter _.

Harry was gobsmacked. How rich was his dad? 

“This is… a lot,” he said. “I didn’t know Gringotts kept all these stuff other than gold, too.”

“Only _ valuable _ ‘stuff’, Mr. Potter,” Ragnok sniffed. “And of course, the old families have always trusted the goblins to keep all their valuables safe. The wise bloodlines, anyway.”

Lily looked amused. “I agree, the goblins would do better than any wizard. It’s also mutually beneficial, since the Potters are an old family that’s always been good at multiplying their gold. In fact, my dad, your grandfather, didn’t want to be _ too _ upstaged, and so created an Evans vault even when James was still courting me.” She held up a much smaller length of parchment that was about a foot long.

Ragnok cleared his throat. “Let us begin with the current expenses. Vault 689 under the name of Harry James Potter has been regularly taken from in the past two years, mostly in the month of August. Last withdrawal dates August 8 of this year.”

Harry suddenly blushed, glad that he never splurged on anything big, but he usually spent a lot of the money he got on treats, especially when he was with his friends on the Hogwarts Express.

“Vault 702, as of today under the name of Lily Jade Potter, sending the equivalent of 400 Galleons a year to a Muggle bank account under the name of Petunia Olivia Dursley. This transaction started in July 1982, and is set to continue until Mr. Harry James Potter’s seventeenth birthday. Latest transfer is dated July 31 of this year.”

Harry saw his mother tense, and sympathized. He didn’t know Aunt Petunia was receiving money from his parents’ vault, and his aunt certainly never showed any sign of it. 

More important to him, though, was the reveal of his mother’s middle name. He smiled to himself, adding it to his collection of new, precious information.

“Who authorized these transactions?” Lily asked in a cold tone.

“As Mr. Potter’s previous magical guardian, Mr. Albus Dumbledore did, after disclosing that it would be for Mr. Potter’s welfare, to support his foster family.”

Harry almost snorted, but he had the feeling his mum wouldn’t find it as funny.

He was correct. “Master Ragnok, I ask that you terminate this agreement immediately,” Lily demanded. 

“Of course, Mrs. Potter. May I continue to the confirmation of the other accounts?”

And so he did. The other vaults were untouched, of course, since they would have been opened to Harry only on his seventeenth birthday. There was another Potter vault, one dedicated to treasures and heirlooms (“Your grandmother, Effie, always tried to pass them on to me, but I found them too impractical, especially in my teens.”), which had to be recited individually, which made up half the list.

There was a smaller, less secure vault with less gold (“James agreed to allocate money to charities, but didn’t see the point of organizing. I got my way eventually.”), which Harry was very interested in, but the properties were what really took his attention.

“Your home in Godric’s Hollow is in disrepair and uninhabitable, as you know. I believe it’s been made a memorial by local wizarding folk. Will you be ordering reparations for it? I need to be informed to assess its value.”

Lily shook her head, and glanced at Harry. “I’ll be making decisions about that house after Harry and I visit it ourselves.” 

He appreciated that, he really did, though he didn’t appreciate the feeling of wanting to bawl like a baby in front of Ragnok. He managed to just nod.

“The London townhouse is still standing. In Ottery St. Catchpole, the cottage near the forest and the manor on Stoatshead Hill should be perfectly intact. I will also have to update the recorded worth of these three, after the renovations needed after years of disuse.”

Harry widened his eyes. “Ottery St. Catchpole? That’s where the Weasleys live!” It was amazing enough that he had three homes when he used to have none, but having _ two _near his best mate? Brilliant!

“Is that right?” Lily replied. “That’s wonderful. The cottage was supposed to be a summer residence anyway, I shall have that fixed up first. I promise it’ll be ready by the holidays.”

Harry grinned. His mum really was the best, and it was only the second day he had her back. 

_ She’s really great_, Harry thought, watching her do business with Ragnok. _ All these new things are nice, but really, having her back is enough. _

When they left the office to get some gold from Lily’s vault, she put her hand on his shoulder and gave him the most radiant smile.

_ More than enough. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To those interested: any time I update, the “proper” outline is always around 10 chapters ahead, 
> 
> But there’s a messy outline draft that exists, too - handwritten and currently has projections until around sixth year


	6. Introducing Various Farewells

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cheers!

“Aren’t you getting any for yourself?” Harry whispered, as Lily paid for his sundae. 

The street was awake now, though not as crowded as students know it. Older witches and wizards, as well as barely-adult couples, wandered here and there, replacing the bustling families of the day before.

Lily was glamoured, her hair black like Harry’s and a Notice-Me-Not focused on her face. Harry was fascinated by the process, and it gratified Lily that her Charms were still something to admire in this older world, even if just by her son. She held out her hand, and they started to stroll down Diagon Alley.

“I have to confess that your sweet tooth comes only from your father,” she told him, peering into Flourish and Blott’s display window. “Although I crave a sugary drink every now and then.”

She turned back to him. Harry’s eyes lit up like that sometimes, as if she hung the moon, but she hadn’t figured out yet what caused it. She just smiled and ruffled his hair— actions that were involuntary in the presence of her son.

“Is there anything you’d like?” she inquired, stopping to gesture at the array of shops.

“I have all my school stuff already.” Harry looked up at her, confused.

“I meant an item that isn’t necessarily _ necessary_,” she chuckled. “I did miss your birthday this year, and I have thirteen to make up for.”

“You don’t have to!” Harry quickly replied. “This year’s already got the best birthday I’ve ever had. I don’t need anything else…”

She made a private prediction that the hardest part of mothering Harry would be this constant arguing to provide for him. Even at the ice cream parlor, he had reached into his money bag and tried to pay.

“Harry, I’m your mother and I _ want _to,” she said, quirking her lips despite the slight exasperation. 

“Are you trying to break my heart?” she jested when he still looked conflicted. It seemed that the smoothest way to get through his stubbornness was to remind him that the benefit was shared between them. 

“Of course not! I’m sorry…” She winced. The method may be smooth, but she had yet to master it.

* * *

Hermione was concerned, and her constant grooming of Crookshanks was the manifestation. 

Harry had been gone for _ ages_. It was less stressful last night, when the barman waved them away, saying their friend was preoccupied in his room. She was a little worried, but the adults seemed appeased at dinner, so she just decided to grill him at breakfast.

Now breakfast was almost over for everyone except Ron, and Harry still wasn’t back from whatever errand Tom claimed he had.

Mrs. Weasley was wringing her hands, but only because they had to leave for the train soon. Mr. Weasley was relaxed, reading the newspaper, while Tom continued looking very, almost suspiciously, pleased while coming in and out to serve food.

Hermione always thought that adults severely underestimated the amount of trouble Harry could get himself into, but at least she was usually there to help him!

“Reckon Harry will show up soon?” Ron asked her, mouth stuffed with sausages.

She wrinkled her nose, but eventually slumped, sighing. “I certainly hope so. He can’t miss the train again this year!”

“Hope he didn’t land in a mess without us.”

She stroked Crookshanks, who was sleeping on her lap. He’s been calm all morning, very much unlike the hellcat the vendor said he was. 

“Knowing Harry…” she began.

Suddenly, Crookshanks had bolted up to run out the room. At first, she thought that he might have spotted Scabbers, or some other prey, but when she hurried after him, she found her cat near the back entrance to Diagon Alley. He was rubbing against the legs of a woman in Muggle clothing, purring when he was pet. Hermione didn’t know who she was, but recognized her companion.

“Harry!” Hermione exclaimed, immediately hugging her friend.

“Hullo,” Harry gestured towards her cat, whose belly was now being scratched by the cooing stranger. “He seems almost cute like that, huh?”

“Crookshanks _ is _ cute,” she retorted, and then hit him on the arm when she remembered herself. “Harry James Potter, we were worried sick! Where have you been?”

“Er.” Harry looked back at his companion, who straightened and smiled at them. Hermione noted black hair and Harry’s green eyes, and even if she can’t seem to maintain eye contact, this couldn’t be anyone but a relative. 

“Harry,” Hermione said, tone less frantic. “Is this… your aunt?” Harry had said his Muggle relatives were furious about blowing up his other aunt, and were generally mean, but…

Harry started laughing. “Of course not!” He snorted, then seemed to think about the question. Again, he deferred to the woman. “This is…”

The woman also looked amused. “Why don’t we bring this further inside?” she suggested. Her voice was soft, and reminded Hermione of her dad’s favourite violin records. “I’d like to introduce myself properly to the Weasleys, as well.”

“Yeah, Hermione,” Harry agreed. “Where’s Ron?”

Hermione did not like information being withheld from her, but she just huffed. “Eating, of course. Tom’s given us a private parlor for breakfast, but everyone else was almost finished.” 

She tried to get Crookshanks, but he just ignored her. She huffed again, and led the way.

The Weasleys were chattering when they got back, Mrs. Weasley shouting reminders at her children, while her husband discussed something with Tom. The twins were annoying Percy again, while Ginny served as the sniggering audience, half-pretending to listen to their mum.

“Harry!” Mrs. Weasley cried when she saw them. “You’re all packed, aren’t you? Come, eat a bit, you’ve missed breakfast! The Ministry cars will be fetching us soon.”

Hermione noticed Tom silently leave, closing the parlor door behind him. She crossed her arms, and nudged Crookshanks’ body with her foot. She wanted him behind her, but he dug his claws on the wooden floorboards to stay near the woman.

“Oh, is this your aunt?” Mrs. Weasley was saying. She walked towards the stranger. “Hello, I’m Molly Weasley, and this is my brood.” She waved her hand over the room. “How nice of you to send Harry off despite his little mishap. Would you like some breakfast, as well?”

Harry had gone to sit beside Ron, and both were whispering animatedly. Hermione didn’t join them, eyes on the stranger.

The rest of the room was silent, curiously watching the newcomer and Mrs. Weasley.

“Hello,” the guest greeted easily. “And hello, everyone else. I’m sorry to interrupt your breakfast.” 

She paused, turning to Harry who nodded enthusiastically. “Well, there’s no better way to say it, I suppose. I’m Lily Potter, Harry’s mother. You may... know of me?”

Hermione felt her jaw drop as the woman removed her glamour.

* * *

Harry has expected shock, of course, but it was still worse than he expected. Ron and Hermione were both talking at him furiously, making his head hurt. Percy, for the first time, looked like he didn’t know what to do, and turned to his parents, demanding answers. The twins exchanged multiple variations of gobsmacked expressions. Mr. Weasley stood up to approach them, ignoring Mrs. Weasley’s whispered questions.

In the midst of it all, Lily Potter stood still. She was waiting it out, looking at the adults serenely. Harry admired how calm she was under all the pressure. _ Grace_, his mind supplied. He intended to follow her example, shaking his head at his two friends to tell them to wait.

However, Mr. Weasley pointed a wand at his mother, who didn’t react at all. Without even thinking about it, he scrambled over the table and kicked chairs aside to get between them.

“No!” he yelled, panting a bit. “Mr. Weasley, what are you doing?!”

“Harry.” Mr. Weasley’s voice was cold, and he took no notice of the cries behind him. Weird hissing came from behind Harry, but he didn't dare move his gaze, either. “Harry, this may come as a surprise, but listen. Sirius Black is on the hunt for you, deranged and intending to kill. I wouldn’t put it past him to use your mother’s image to get to you.”

“Then Harry would be dead, not here,” Lily said, placing a hand on Harry’s shoulder. She smoothly pushed him behind her despite his attempt to stay on her guard. “I am his mother.”

“But Lily Potter is dead!” Mrs. Weasley whispered in the silence.

“I know that’s what everyone thinks,” Harry interjected, frantically thinking about how to convince them, to _take that wand away_. “But it’s true! She knows stuff about my childhood, and… she presented her blood at Gringotts! They even put the fountain thing on the way to our vault just to make sure! The one that washes away enchantments!”

“The goblins acknowledged her?” Mr. Weasley asked in surprise. Harry was about to yell _ yes now put down your wand — _

“Yes,” Lily answered simply. “You’re free to ask them yourself, after which I would appreciate an apology.”

Mr. Weasley lowered his wand almost guiltily. Almost. After a while, he strode out of the room, presumably to Gringotts.

Harry sighed in relief and embraced his mother’s back. She patted his hand, and murmured, “I think I’ll wait in my room.” 

“Nonsense!” Mrs. Weasley exclaimed when he moved to allow his mum to pass. “Whoever you are, you don’t mean Harry harm. And if you’re really... Well. Have some breakfast!”

Lily nodded, and allowed Mrs. Weasley to usher them to the long table.

“Thanks, Mrs. Weasley, but we’ve already eaten,” Harry said. 

As if on cue, a tea tray appeared on the now-cleared table. Lily quietly made herself a cup of tea, while Harry gave in and nibbled on a crumpet.

“Your cat,” Lily addressed Hermione. Crookshanks was underneath the table, shifting through their legs. “Is he well?”

“Yes!” Hermione looked a bit offended. “I only got him yesterday, but he’s supposed to look like that. I can take care of him.”

“I meant no offense.” His mother sipped her tea.

When the quiet fell again, he shot a pleading glance at Ron, who had joined the rest of the room in staring at the two of them as if they couldn’t believe what they were seeing. 

He heard a sigh. “Erm, I’m sorry for being rude, Mrs. Potter.” Bless Hermione Granger. “We’ve been worried about Harry since last night... Why did you take so long at Gringotts? Is it because of the extra security measures Harry mentioned? Does it take a while for the goblins to implement them?”

Harry grinned as Lily graciously answered all of the questions being shot at her. Gradually, everyone relaxed. 

“I do hope we don’t miss the train,” Mrs. Weasley was muttering, watching the doorway. 

Percy had joined Hermione is asking about goblin security, comparing them to what his family had seen in Egypt. Harry rolled his eyes at the rather dull topic, and turned to Ron.

His friend still looked uncomfortable, but there seemed to be barely-contained awe, as well. Harry was reminded of _ their _first meeting. It must be weird to see someone who was essentially a historical figure.

“Ron,” Harry called. “You alright, mate?”

The redhead blushed. “Er, it’s silly. But for some reason I reckon this is a tad… _ more _than all the bizarre things that’ve happened to you.”

Harry grinned at that. “Definitely,” he agreed. “And you’re here for this one, too.”

“Blimey,” Ron whispered, then went over to sling an arm over his shoulder. “Forget me, this is wicked, Harry! I’m so happy for you.” 

“Thanks, Ron. It’s… really great to have Mum back.”

“Sure, but also _ intimidating_, on my end. I’ve never seen anyone with that much patience for Hermione,” Ron commented, watching what seemed like a full-on academic discussion happening near them. “Not even the teachers.”

Harry was pleased that Hermione quickly warmed up to his mum, despite her obvious reservations earlier. He just hoped that Ron will come to like her, too, and vice versa. “She’s not like that all the time. But she knows a lot, so I think she also knows how to deal with different people. The store clerks liked her, and I swear I saw a goblin _ smile_.” 

Then he thought about it. “Well, your dad didn’t like her. Never seen him so angry,” he added, a bit more curt than he intended. Mr. Weasley was nice enough, but Harry was still feeling the fear from seeing a wand pointed at his mother.

“Me neither. He’s been stressed over the whole Sirius Black situation. Though he’s definitely gone a bit mad about it if he thinks Black would pretend to be your mum and wear her clothes.” They bought snorted at the thought, before Harry remembered that his friends didn’t know Sirius Black was innocent. 

He’d have to ask his mum later if he could tell them about it.

He heard Lily apologize that she didn’t know much more about how goblins kept valuables. Unfazed, Hermione switched to questioning her glamour. Fred and George were eventually drawn to the conversation, asking questions about the charms she used. Percy sniffed and leaned away from the twins, much to Harry and Ron’s amusement.

Lily aimed her smile at Percy. “Remind me later to ask you more about your impression of Egyptian politics. I hardly know anything about the topic, but your thoughts earlier were very interesting.” She turned back to the other three asking for her attention. 

Red-faced and puffing his chest out, Percy went to Mrs. Weasley. “I shall check if the Ministry cars are there, Mother,” he announced loudly. “Someone reliable should welcome them since Father isn’t here.” 

Mrs. Weasley opted to go ahead of him, and once she was out the door, one of the twins threw a crumpet at the back of Percy’s head. 

Percy turned to yell at his brother, but froze when both stuck their tongues out while pointing at Lily’s back. He stomped off, as the twins switched to innocent expressions when Lily addressed them.

“Wow, Harry. Your mum’s _ magic_,” Ron joked.

He laughed, but the pleasure ran deeper than the jest. “I’m glad the rest of you seem to believe it’s really Mum.”

“Don’t worry about Dad, he’ll come around when he sees that she’s not doing much attacking here. In any case, I think Percy and Hermione are half in love with her already. If Dad points his wand at her again, I reckon they’ll join you in shielding her.”

“And where will you be?”

“Holding Dad back, of course. What’s the use if no one prevents the other side from attacking? Not a good strategy to just block the field of view of the bloke whose side you’re on.” Ron reached for a handful of crumpets.

Harry looked at him. “You’re just as smart as Hermione sometimes, y'know,” he told his friend.

“Nah,” was the reply, though Ron’s ears were red. Then he shuddered. “We don’t need _ two _of Hermione, Harry. Three, if your mum counts. Imagine!”

Mrs. Weasley popped her head in. “They’re here! Those of you who haven’t brought their trunks downstairs, do it now!” 

“What about Dad?” Ron asked.

“Oh, forget him!” Then she left.

“That means we’ll have an extra seat for you, Mrs. Potter,” Hermione said happily.

“I’m afraid I won’t be going with you to the station.” Harry groaned at this, even though the two of them had already discussed it. “I can’t have everybody knowing I’m alive yet.” 

“Why not?” Hermione looked just as devastated as Harry felt. 

“Well, it might cause an unpleasant fuss, for one…”

Hermione looked like she was about to cry, but didn’t protest when the twins ushered her and Ron out so that Harry could say good-bye to his mum privately.

“Are you _ sure _you can’t drop me off, even with your glamour?” Harry asked for what felt like the hundredth time that day.

Lily cupped his cheek. “Keep asking with that pout and you’ll convince me,” she sighed. 

“Are you _ sure _—”

“Oh shush,” she laughed. “I do want to, but I think it’s important that the Ministry not catch wind of me yet. Not until we decide what to do about Sirius.”

Feeling quite defeated, Harry just hugged her. 

“But I do want to,” she repeated, squeezing him back. “Next year, I promise, and every school year after that. I’ll write, and fix the cottage up as your surprise to your friends, remember?”

“Yeah,” he replied, not as cheered by the thought as he was this morning. 

_ She promises next year, _ he told himself. _ That means she’ll have been back for a whole year. And by my seventh year, it would be four years. That’d be more than the ones she missed. _

He couldn’t imagine that future just yet, but he wanted it so bad that maybe he could go through this new semester without his mum, if that was the reward. Maybe.

Lily kissed his head. “Come, let’s not keep your friends waiting.”

Harry forced his feet to move to the common dining area, where a lot of trunks were stacked by the Muggle entrance.

“Harry! I’ve had your things brought down,” Mrs. Weasley called from where she was speaking to Mr. Weasley, then left him to reach Lily.

“Mrs. Potter,” she said, with a tear in her eye. “May I hug you?”

Harry saw the surprised expression on his mum’s face before she was pulled into Mrs. Weasley’s very tight hug. He made sure the area was empty, then grinned, knowing how the first experience of _ that _felt like.

“Lily, please,” his mum insisted, an almost unnoticeable blush on her cheeks.

“Oh,” Mrs. Weasley cried as she let go. “You and your son have done so much for us, for the wizarding world.”

Lily just placed her arm around Harry’s shoulders. “That’s… well, I just ask that you bring Harry safely to the station, please.”

“Of course, and I apologize for my dunderhead of a husband. He’s back with his tail between his legs, you see. Arthur!”

She bustled away as Mr. Weasley approached them with a sheepish expression. Harry tensed against his mother, who rubbed his shoulder in response.

“Mrs. Potter.” Mr. Weasley’s ears were red. 

“Your wife calls me Lily, and I insist you do the same. Especially since our children are good friends.”

“I— I owe you an apology, as you said,” he stammered.

“That apology is owed to Harry,” she informed him. Harry shot her a questioning look. “I understand and appreciate your caution, but you frightened my son by threatening me.”

“Mum—” Mr. Weasley cut him off.

“She’s right, Harry. There were better ways to handle that, especially since you only got her back… Merlin,” he muttered, looking very displeased with himself. “I apologize to both of you. For being a right prick.”

“It’s okay, Mr. Weasley, no harm done,” Harry immediately said. Lily nodded.

“I just hope my reappearance hasn’t reached the Ministry, or the public yet, Mr. Weasley?”

“Call me Arthur, please. And of course, your privacy is secure, and will be kept that way. Although, with Sirius Black loose, the Minister might… well, it wouldn’t do to stress the Aurors further. As long as you’re certain you don’t need any guards?” At Lily’s affirmation, he nodded. 

“If this whole Black fiasco lasts longer than we expect, we’d appreciate if you eventually… help,” he murmured, as if Harry wasn’t supposed to hear, or understand. “Though you are certainly under no obligation.”

Harry waited for his mother to clarify the situation about his godfather, but she just nodded again. Mr. Weasley thanked her, and assured that he’d impose the secrecy of her return on his family. The three of them joined the rest.

“Madam.” Percy strode forward, and took Lily’s hand. “It was a delight to meet you.” He kissed the back of her palm, which Harry thought was kind of gross. 

Lily just regally dipped her head, but Harry could see a bit of twitching on her lips. Fred and George made their goodbyes extra exuberant after that, pushing Percy away and bowing to Lily from the waist until their foreheads reached the ground. Mrs. Weasley, embarrassed, pushed the three outside after waving at Lily.

When Mr. Weasley followed, it was just Harry, Ron and Hermione with his mum. Well, and Crookshanks, who was hissing from the basket Hermione was carrying.

Harry turned when Lily made him face her.

“This isn’t goodbye forever,” she said gently, stroking his fringe. 

“I know,” he replied. _ But knowing my luck... _

She tried pushing the corner of his mouth upwards. “Sweetheart, the first letter will be at Hogwarts before you even get to the welcoming feast.” 

If they were alone, Harry would probably cry again. Even now, he felt tears prickling at the back of his eyes despite his friends behind him. 

Lily pulled out a folded piece of parchment from her pocket, and handed it to him. “It’s not yet a letter,” she apologized. “But I hope it’ll do for now?”

It was his permission form for Hogsmeade, signed with her name. Harry had forgotten all about it.

His lip trembled. “But I thought—”

“It only looks like that to anyone who already knows I’m alive,” she explained. “It’s enough for McGonagall to detect that it was signed by a relative, but she’ll only see what she expects to see.”

Harry threw his arms around her, a few tears escaping despite himself. He heard Hermione call out a question about the spell, and Ron’s shushing. Harry laughed, then let go.

“Thank you, Mum.” Lily nodded, and kissed his cheek again before straightening up.

“Ron and Hermione,” she addressed the two. “I look forward to getting to know you more soon, okay?”

Ron blushed, while Hermione nodded enthusiastically. 

“Now go, Molly was quite right to panic about the train. I’m afraid I’ve kept you too for long.” She led them towards the entrance, and stopped just before she would be seen from outside.

Harry wouldn’t budge yet, however.

“You’ll write?” he asked again, pleading for reassurance. “While I’m away at Hogwarts? Whenever you’re not busy?”

“I will write every day, even if you get tired of it,” she told him, pressing a last kiss against his hair.

“I won’t,” Harry promised.

* * *

Lily sighed as she pulled her hood over her head. She had redone her glamour, but still opted to wear her cloak. Her instincts from the war were still intact, reminding her to take extra care in hiding herself.

She was on the way to Knockturn Alley now, remembering a shop she had noticed while talking to Remus. Some places could prove useful, no matter how shady their reputation, and she needed something very specific to help Sirius.

_ Might find something for Harry, too. _She would strip it of lingering malicious magic of course, which would come after she had the opportunity to test how her magical abilities compared to the standard of today. 

She’d still keep a lookout for anything interesting, though, especially since Harry has proven uncooperative in choosing a gift for himself. Even after she practically begged, he still wouldn’t give his opinion on any item she held out.

Except for one. At the Magical Menagerie, she pointed at a cage full of adorable snakes — python hatchlings, she guessed. Remembering his stories about last year, she offered to get him a pet that he could talk to. He refused, saying that people didn’t, and wouldn’t like the reminder that he was a Parselmouth. 

_ Some stigmata remain the same_, she had thought. At least it made sense in this case, with the basilisk threatening the school, but she was saddened that her son had to repress something that was simply a talent. A tool like a wand used for magic, the nature of which depending on the user. 

She would try to explain this to Harry later on, when the new school year had distracted him from the last

She sighed again. Even though the cars would have probably just reached King’s Cross, she already wanted her son back. She wouldn’t forget to buy her own owl later, so she could fulfill her promise of writing him today. The first letter was on her suite’s desk, already half-written.

Lily suddenly stopped walking, even though Borgin and Burkes was still a distance away. She reached for the top of her hood. 

When she pulled her hand back, there was a rather large beetle between her fingers. She examined it when it crawled all over her arm, then picked it up again at one point and observed the underside. 

Nothing seemed to be of note. “What pretty designs your eyes have,” she complimented, and placed it gently on the ground. She watched it scuttle away.

* * *

Somewhere in a deserted field, a large, black dog just entered Scottish territory. It had been moving for several weeks now, stopping only when it absolutely had to. It ate whatever it scraps it could find every few days, and drank water a little more frequently than that.

Trying to keep to the Muggle world as much as possible, it preferred alleyways, abandoned roads, and, most often, forests and overgrown fields. Sometimes it needed directions, so it’d stay near the populace for a while, picking up clues here and there.

It now raced to get to the darkness of the forest, ignoring the dust, leaves and dirt tangled into its fur. With the whole of the Auror department aiming to capture it, there was no such thing as too cautious, especially at this point. It would reach the castle soon.

The castle. Hogwarts. Flashes of old companions appeared in its mind’s eye as it reached the cover of the trees...

First, a wolf who liked chasing the dog and being chased in return... snapping and biting at each other without any real malice... 

The dog did not understand tears, but it knew fear, and the wolf stank of it when water flowed from his eyes… Alone. The wolf was alone… 

...The wolf called and called for its pack, and even if the moon echoed the howls, no one came. Only the dog, and...

The dog slowed down when it remembered a bigger animal… the _ biggest _ … with horns. No, antlers… stag… friend… _ James. _

The dog let out a long, pitiful whine, mourning the memory. 

The stag pointing his antlers down, pretending to scoop the dog up… the stag prancing around to tease the wolf… turning into a man that slung human arms around them… 

The man… James… his best friend who saved him... 

...He remembered the rat. 

Hairy, shivering, small. Weak. Protect? No… Not anymore. 

Killed stag. Killed James. 

Enemy. Last one.

_ Enemy. Must die._

The rat must die.

It seemed impossible to the dog that such small prey could defeat the beautiful larger creature that was still prey but _ stronger_. 

_ But that’s why we hunt it_, the man told the dog. _ It defied nature. It killed the stag. It killed James. We hunt to show the rat its place. _

Then, Sirius realized he had stopped running. It was him thinking, the body he held wracking with whimpers as his consciousness took over — he paralyzed himself by getting too lost in his emotions. Again. He growled, furious at himself.

This is why the dog held the controls since the escape. It can’t be Sirius in charge, or they would remember too much. Sirius wouldn’t be able to hunt, had no will or strength to move. He’s already failed once, he'll fail again if he remembers. 

Sirius Black was good for sitting still in Azkaban, but the dog was needed for his revenge. There could be no failure this time. 

A loud screech distracted him. An owl overhead. He slowed his pace, and waited for it to pass, but it landed in front of him, paper in its foot. 

More small prey, the dog thought. _ Danger_, growled the man. He violently ripped the letter away from the owl, which squawked in protest. 

Ignoring it, he took the corner of the letter between his canines and tore it to pieces. 

The owl seemed bewildered, then angry. It attacked him with flapping wings and tried to peck him. He barked at it, swiping with his paws and baring his teeth until it flew away.

Immediately, Sirius returned the reigns to the dog, who was faster at bolting.

Next town, it needed the stick — a wand — to keep others from finding them, to cover their tracks better.

They just needed to finish the hunt, then everything would be over. 

What about wolf? the dog asked, continuing to sprint as the man went to sleep. 

_ The first to be over, that one. _ Sirius replied. _ Already finished long ago._

And then it was quiet. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know if you enjoyed! (oh no there i go)
> 
> Here's all I have to bribe you with: Draco appears properly next chapter.


	7. Ways of Welcome

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will be the last update of 2019! More about that in the end notes, but just wanted to mention it here in case someone wanted to save the chapter for when I update in January or something.
> 
> Cheers!

The rain pouring as the Hogwarts Express left the station perfectly matched Harry’s mood, but nothing could change the fact that he did love Hogwarts and would always look forward to going there. 

Adding that his friends knew about Lily now too, he eventually regained excitement for the journey despite the separation.

He wasn’t the only one missing her. “Your mum shared so much, I wish I had parchment at breakfast,” Hermione gushed. “Gringotts security really is incredible, isn’t it? I wonder if there are any books in the library about that...”

Harry and Ron exchanged a look.

“I don’t know how you’re going to fit extra reading into that schedule of yours,” Harry reminded her.

Her shoulders dropped. “I _ suppose _I could just owl Mrs. Potter about her charms work, since she seems very skilled! Do you think tonight will be too early to write a letter?”

There was a twinge of discomfort in Harry’s chest that he didn’t understand. Ron glanced at him knowingly, then decided to take over the conversation.

“I reckon Mrs. Potter has a lot to do other than satisfy your random questions, and so do you. _ I’m _wondering who the new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor will be? Hope it’s not another airhead like Lockhart.”

Grateful for the change in topic, Harry leaned forward. “Mum told me it’s someone called Remus Lupin. He fought in the war with my parents.”

“Brilliant,” said Ron, bringing out the sandwich Mrs. Weasley gave out before they boarded. “Then he should know what he’s doing.”

“I wonder if Professor Dumbledore picked someone who fought against You-Know-Who because of Sirius Black? For someone to help protect the school?” Hermione mused.

Ron choked on his bread. “Why would Black target Hogwarts?! I’m sure he has bigger priorities than snot-nosed kids. Right?”

“Ronald, didn’t you hear your dad this morning? Black’s after Harry!”

Harry tensed. He hadn’t been able to ask Lily if he could tell them about Black, but he felt uncomfortable at the thought that his godfather would be judged unfairly even by his friends.

He hadn’t met the man yet, but Harry knew what it felt like to be dismissed as dangerous or troublesome, when all he probably wanted was to live normally.

“Er,” he started, but then a whistling sound interrupted. 

After the three of them searched the area, it turned out to be the Sneakoscope Ron gave him. This led to talks of repair, after which his friends ended up gushing about Hogsmeade. 

The moment was lost, so Harry just joined in. Maybe the Sneakoscope acted up because he hadn’t asked permission to share what he knew about Black.

Ron spoke of the wizarding village, which sounded really wonderful to Harry, who never really went anywhere interesting besides school. He was glad his mum allowed him to go.

He marveled (again) at how great his life was going because of Lily. Listening to the enumeration of the different village shops, he wondered if he could find a small token to send her. 

The witch who pushed the food trolley knocked just as Ron was salivating about all the wonderful treats to be found in Hogsmeade. Harry chuckled, and decided to indulge his friends, even if they had the sandwiches.

“Anything else, dears?” she asked after he bought Cauldron Cakes for all of them. She left after they shook their heads and thanked her.

“Can’t afford anything after your little vacation, Weasley?” a voice drawled. Hermione tried to shut the compartment door, but a meaty hand pushed it open.

Draco Malfoy emerged from behind his goons Crabbe and Goyle. 

“Get out, Malfoy,” Ron hissed, standing to block the Slytherin.

“I suppose a handful of gold isn’t enough to teach one some manners, let alone some class. I’m surprised you managed to actually get back to Britain, with the pittance you got.”

Harry grabbed Ron’s wrist to hold him back. Malfoy was a git alright, but Harry didn’t want to let him ruin the cheerful mood further.

“I’m surprised you know how much anything costs, Malfoy,” Harry said mildly. Not his best opening, but oh well. “I would think you were too rich and _ classy _to bother with that stuff.”

There was a beat of silence where everyone else looked utterly confused, but Malfoy recovered quickly. 

“Of course you’re right, my family need not—” he stopped, as if he had just realized that he was agreeing with Harry about something. He sneered. “I know how to measure worth, and I could spend that amount in an hour. A jackpot, they called it. More like a joke.”

He turned back to Ron. “Do you even have a subscription to the Prophet, Weasel? Did your mother cut out the article and frame it?” Crabbe and Goyle jeered in support.

“How’s your mother then, Malfoy?” Harry asked before Ron could start roaring. “I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure of meeting her.”

Another beat of silence, where the rest waited for the punchline. When Harry merely looked expectant, Malfoy’s face turned an interesting shade of red. 

“Did you hit your head, Potter?” he demanded, then turned to Hermione. “Is he sick?”

Hermione flinched, but side-eyed Harry as if she wanted to know herself.

_ This is actually fun,_ Harry decided gleefully. He gave their visitors a wide smile. “Cauldron Cake?” he offered.

Malfoy and Ron started sputtering in an amusingly similar fashion. Hermione covered her mouth, and Crabbe and Goyle looked from Malfoy to Harry, looking very lost.

Malfoy opened and closed his mouth. “I hope you die from whatever illness you’ve got, Potter!” he yelled weakly, then stomped off. 

Crabbe and Goyle moved to follow, but not before eyeing the Cauldron Cakes Harry was still holding out. 

He threw one at Goyle, who caught it reflexively. The two hurried away.

Ron was scowling, but the effect was dampened by obvious bewilderment. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, mate, but is Malfoy right? Have you gone _ mental?_”

Harry finally gave in to the laughter he was suppressing. He chuckled heartily, feeling tears come up, while his friends looked on in concern.

“Come on, guys,” he said between snickers. “It was funny!”

“Harry?” Hermione looked worried, which revived the hilarity of the situation.

“Look, I just didn’t want him to ruin our moods, okay? And it worked, didn’t it? Did you see his _ face?_ He was redder than Ron’s hair!” 

Hermione shook her head, but was apparently satisfied that Harry was just having a bit of fun.

“You _are _mental,” Ron declared, but he finally gave a reluctant smile. “Still, mate, what’d you give away our Cauldron Cakes for?”

* * *

_ What was Potter playing at? _

Draco stomped through the length of the train, not wanting to return to the compartment with the other Slytherins. He had waved Crabbe and Goyle away, but not before spying a Cauldron Cake in the hand of the latter. 

_ Damn Potter! Damn his stupid face with that stupid scar and stupid “how’s your mother, then?” _

Merlin, Draco wanted to kick and scream in frustration, but it was unbecoming to do so in a public vehicle surrounded by other people. 

He took out his wand and sent one, two, three Stinging Hexes at the carpeted floor with a growl. A first year that just exited a compartment yelped and ran in the opposite direction. Draco ignored him, not at all satisfied with ruining the carpet.

Potter had _ smiled _at him. The arrogant imbecile had never done that before, but he obviously knew that it would enrage Draco. 

He had searched the train for the trio’s compartment, readying his lines. He prepared to rile them up, starting the inevitable verbal assault, the threats of violence, the adrenaline and manic energy. Potter and his underlings were supposed to follow the script. Scarhead was supposed to be _ predictable. _

But Potter was apparently a nutter now who managed to take him off guard. Draco lost his nerve, and — _ shit _— ran away.

_ Tactical retreat,_ he placated himself. 

_ Curse Potter’s speccy saintly act, does he think I turned into one of his disgusting fans over the summer, Merlin help me I’m going to hex his unkempt, uncouth and probably unsanitary head off, I swear— _

Draco was very tempted to blast the floor open, but it was never worth risking trouble without Potter getting dragged down, too.

Sullen, he decided to pamper himself with sweets from the trolley. He was heading towards the front carriage where the trolley should be, when the train suddenly stilled.

Had he stewed that long? He cast a Tempus. Like he thought — the train couldn’t have reached Hogwarts yet.

Then foreboding came, followed by fear.

And _ cold._

The lights went out.

He backed up quickly, feeling his way through the dark. Compartments started opening, students sticking their heads out to see what had happened. Draco ran to the nearest open door, and bumped into a body. 

“Ow! Bloody hell, who—?” It was a Weasley — one of the twins, since it wasn’t the annoying drone of the stuck-up eldest, which meant the other twin was also here. 

He would rather not be in a dark, confined space with the two troublemakers, but it was better than being out there with whatever made the train stop.

“What’s happening?” he whispered.

“Is that—ow, Fred, get off—-” There didn’t seem to be anyone else inside, so Draco slowly felt around until he touched the softness of a seat. 

When the twins were done shuffling, one of them lit up his wand.

“Malfoy?” said the one who cast_ Lumos,_ raising an eyebrow. 

Draco didn’t reply.

“Scared, are we, little prince?” The other sat beside him and gave a grin that looked sinister in the dim light. Draco shivered, not just because of the increasing frost, and tried to shrink into himself.

“Lay off, Fred, it’s not exactly a comfortable situation,” said — George? “I think it’s —”

The door slowly creaked open, and he fell silent. Draco trembled, uncaring if he was leaning too much against the twin beside him.

A hooded figure was at the door, peering in. The lit wand faltered, but George Weasley managed to steady it. The twins made the same little hissing gasp, and Draco gulped when he saw that the figure was floating.

And if that didn’t tell him what their visitor was, the sudden soul-wrenching sadness he felt did. 

Logically, he knew the Dementors of Azkaban were under the Ministry’s authority. They were probably looking for Black here, perhaps they had been guarding a checkpoint the train passed. Logically, all should be well because Draco had no crimes to hide.

There was no logic now, however, just the dilemma of whether it was better to shut his eyes or keep them trained on the Dementor’s every move. He felt sweat trickle down his neck despite the icy temperature. 

_ Mother is safe. Father is safe. I am safe. Mother and Father are safe. Malfoys do not cry. _

When that sunk in, his thoughts shifted. _ Weren’t you raised better than this? This is why you mess up, you never keep your head. This is why Potter caught you off guard earlier, and he’ll probably find out about this idiocy too, and laugh with his friends until _ everyone _ does and you’ll be alone again. Draco Malfoy with his stupid insecurities and stupid panic and stupid inability to get one over that speccy fool. _

_ You don’t deserve your last name! Father and Mother can’t cover for you forever and they shouldn’t, because you do nothing but disappoint — _

After long, agonizing seconds, the Dementor retreated and moved on. Millenia after that, the deep pit in his chest started to fade, and the lights flickered back on. 

The train started running again, and Draco exhaled the residual darkness. He must’ve held his breath that whole time the Dementor was there.

He wanted nothing more than to sink into the seat, but the sight of Fred Weasley immediately clinging to his twin like a child reminded him that he didn’t belong here.

Weasley was accepted with an equally tight embrace. Draco briefly wondered what it would be like to have a sibling and be so close like that, comfort always within reach.

His knees were shaking slightly, but he managed to stand. He was almost at the door when he heard a firm “Malfoy.”

He turned. The other twin’s face was still buried in his brother’s neck, but George Weasley was looking at Draco. He held something in his palm, offering.

It was a small lollipop, the red candy covered in plastic. Slowly, Draco took it, cursing his unsteady hand. 

He should thank the Weasley, no matter how unpleasant the idea might be. Before he could, though, George gave him an uncharacteristically serious nod, and returned to soothing his brother, whispering into the bright red hair.

Draco left the compartment.

* * *

The train arrived at Hogwarts on time, despite the delay. Harry shuddered at the memory of the skeletal hand reaching out towards them, and the ensuing miserable bout.

A stormy cloud had fallen over the compartment, bringing to surface emotions that he usually kept buried. 

The sadness, memories of loneliness and hardship, those were manageable. What hit him the most was the fear that the best part of his life — his newly-returned mother — would get taken away. For a few seconds, he wondered if she had even been real.

_ Hermione wouldn’t be overexcited if it was all in my head. It’s real. _ She’s _ real, and she promised a letter tonight. _Harry had shaken it off as much as he could, and focused on making sure his friends were alright.

The cloud seemed to be swept away by the sight of the castle, though Harry noted that most students still looked down. Malfoy was silent for once. Neville kept stumbling, and almost fell off his carriage.

Approaching the welcoming lights seemed to lighten the spirits of the most of the student body, however. Chatter eventually picked up. 

“Are you better?” Harry asked Ginny, who ended up in their compartment earlier. She’d been trembling violently. He had tried to block her view of the Dementor, but he couldn’t block whatever joy-depleting abilities it had.

A slight flush appeared on her cheeks, but she still looked far too pale. “Yes, thank you,” she murmured. He clasped her shoulder and grinned in what he hoped was an uplifting way. 

The grin widened as they reached the castle. The thought of Lily still pricked a bit, but Harry was excited for what the beloved school would bring to his vastly improved life.

They were ushered in with no resistance on their part. Hermione was called by Professor McGonagall, so he and Ron had to go find seats by themselves.

Soon, Harry was basking in the glow of the Great Hall.

“I hope they weren’t bothered too much by the Dementors,” he muttered to Ron, watching the first years gather in front of the Sorting Hat. Professor Sprout had taken over for McGonagall. “Worst way to experience Hogwarts for the first time.”

Ron nodded, then grimaced when a first year was Sorted into Slytherin.

“Another nasty one to look out for,” he whispered to Harry.

Harry looked at the student — he already forgot the name — walking nervously to her table as the other Houses clapped half-heartedly. 

Normally, Harry would agree with the sentiment, but… the first year just got here, and already she was hunched over. It would suck to have to go through the Dementors then be Sorted into the House everyone else hated. Harry’s first night in Hogwarts two years ago had been brilliant… Everyone else’s should be, right? It was _ Hogwarts._

“She’s only a first year...” 

Ron scoffed. “So was Malfoy, mate, and he was already a git.”

Harry turned to look at the Slytherin. Malfoy still looked melancholic, looking at his empty plate and ignoring Parkinson’s apparent concern.

_ The Dementors must have gotten him bad. _

When Lily told him about the Azkaban guards, he had wondered if anyone deserved what was basically eternal depression. Even if they were criminals, was that really the best way to make them pay?

Either way, Malfoy, although _ very _ annoying, was not a criminal. While Harry wished his sources of happiness were _ not _ antagonizing every Gryffindor every chance he could get, he wouldn’t want to deprive him of _ all _happiness.

The blond hair lifted, and grey eyes met green. 

His usual response would be a glare, but… Helpless, Harry made an awkward wave.

Malfoy furrowed his eyebrows, and looked away.

_ Weird. _

Harry was getting too uncomfortable with his conflicting thoughts about Slytherins, so he too turned back to the platform when Professor Dumbledore stood up to make his speech.

The Headmaster gave instructions to avoid the Dementors and stay in school. Harry trusted him, really, but he remembered how Lily was reserved...

_ She said she was just waiting. That must mean she just doesn’t know him that well yet. She’ll trust him once they meet again, right? _

Then they got to the new teachers. 

“Er, mate, can he handle the job?” Ron asked when Professor Lupin stood up tohesitant applause. “He’s one hex away from keeling over, by the looks of it.”

It was true. Lupin looked… shabby in his robes. And more concerning was the sickly pallor behind his smile. Actually, the smile seemed forced somehow, too.

“Dunno,” Harry replied, but then remembered the new teacher was close with Sirius Black.

_ He’s probably worried about his friend! _ Harry scolded himself. _ We’re the only ones in the room who know Black’s innocent. _ I’d _ want to get to saving him if I could. _

_ Suppose Mum’s not the only one with people to get to know. _Also, Snape was glaring at Lupin, so Harry’s impression couldn’t help but turn a bit more positive. Hopefully Lupin was more capable than he looked, though.

“— Rubeus Hagrid, who has agreed to take on this teaching job in addition to his gamekeeping duties.”

Stunned, Harry looked up.

“Why aren’t you clapping, Harry? This is brilliant!” Ron bellowed, partaking in the thunderous applause. Blinking, Harry automatically put his hands together.

It _ was _ brilliant, wasn’t it? Unexpected, sure, but Hagrid was their _ friend. _Harry should support him…

_ Mum said… _Harry looked around and saw that other than him, only the Slytherin table wasn’t as enthusiastic as the rest of the Hall.

Something almost painful wormed its way into Harry’s chest. _ Get yourself together! Mum doesn’t know Hagrid, either. He’ll be fine, he’s our friend, _he convinced himself.

The plates before them suddenly filled with food, and Harry dug in, pushing the doubt away.

Hermione arrived shortly afterwards, though she was hesitant in answering their questions as to where she’d been. 

“Just about my course load,” she dismissed, though she refused to make eye contact. 

Shrugging, Ron updated her on the new teachers. 

“Really, Ron, I’m sure Professor Dumbledore wouldn’t have hired him if he was incapable!”

Ron rolled his eyes and mouthed _ Lockhart _to Harry when she wasn’t looking. “Now that Hagrid’s a Professor, you reckon it’ll be an easy grade?”

As Hermione predictably admonished him, Harry realized she was only avoiding eye contact with _ him. _

_ Did Professor McGonagall tell her something about me? _ He hoped it wasn’t more rubbish about keeping safe from Black.

After the three finished dessert, they went to congratulate the new Care of Magical Creatures teacher, Harry trailing a bit behind. 

He winced internally at Hagrid’s joyful tears. _ Some friend you are, doubting him! He’s obviously over the moon, he’ll do great! He’s the one who brought you here! _

He managed a quick congratulations, As the teacher started sobbing into the tablecloth, the guilt became nauseating. The only relief was when McGonagall shooed them into their dorms.

_ Fortuna Major._ The first password of the school year reminded him of how lucky he was, how Hagrid deserved his own luck, too. 

However, all was forgotten once he saw the letter on his pillow. Ron noticed it too, and started talking to any dorm mates that might’ve approached Harry.

Harry closed the curtains of his four-poster quickly, and almost ripped the envelope open.

_ Dearest Harry, _

_ How are you, sweetheart? How was the welcoming feast? I hope the train ride was comfortable. When I was a student, I always enjoyed catching up with my friends before the schoolwork began. _

_ I realize that I haven’t heard much about your other friends. Are you close to your dorm mates? _

_ I hope the interactions between Houses are better than they were during the war. _

_ Did you meet Remus already? I’m going to meet with him in Hogsmeade tomorrow evening about your godfather. I would love nothing more than to visit you, but… it’s not quite time. Of course, having your mother over might be too embarrassing anyway! _

_ Speaking of, I’m sure you’re very excited to spend your first Hogsmeade trip with your friends. Tell me all about it, if you please. Oh, I wish I could have pictures! _

_ In the morning, I’ll be meeting with Ragnok again regarding the Ottery cottage. I was hoping to delay it a tad (Goblins are tiring sometimes), but I must also admit excitement. Tom’s a dear, but having our own home is different, isn’t it? Special. _

_ It’s too early to implement much, but what’s your favourite colour? Is there any colour in particular you’d like your room to be? _

_ On that note, tell me your favourite food (other than sweets), animal, all of it. Do you have hobbies other than Quidditch? I feel incomplete whenever I remember that I wasn’t with you for so long... _

_ Ah, silly me, getting all morose. The first night in Hogwarts should always be a delight. I already miss you, sweetheart, but I’m also excited for you this school year. Remember that I wouldn’t mind you telling me anything and everything. I don’t mean to be nosy, but no detail about you is unimportant to me. _

_ I don’t expect you to write everyday, of course! Focus on your learning and your friends. If you could indulge me even once a fortnight, I’d be grateful. _

_ Also, this letter was delivered by the owl I purchased today. He will have returned right away since you have Hedwig. _

_ He’s quite young, maybe younger than Hedwig based on size, but the Menagerie witch said he could grow to be more than twenty inches! He’s almost entirely black, with adorable short tufts that stick out of his head. He has the most intelligent orange eyes. _

_ I’m telling you all this because I haven’t decided on a name yet. Would you like to do the honors? _

_ With all my love, _

_ Mum _

_ P.S. This letter has a charm similar to the one in your permission slip. Just in case your dorm mates were as nosy as mine. _

Harry couldn’t stop beaming as he read. He had someone to write to about Hogwarts! Someone who was interested!

The Dursleys obviously would have hated him talking about school, and it’s not like he had any friends from outside, Statute of Secrecy or not. 

His dorm mates were all snoring now, so Harry hurriedly got some parchment and ink from his trunk. He also unlocked Hedwig’s cage, since she did not look at all pleased about being forgotten, and dug out a treat to appease her.

He scribbled a _ Dear Mum _with more gusto than he’d ever written anything. 

It was just the first night, so not much had happened. He did tell her about the Dementors on the train and around the school. He asked about Lupin’s appearance, and how his Potions professor might be trouble with all the anger he displayed. 

He hesitated to write about Hagrid’s new position, and asked about telling Ron and Hermione about Sirius Black instead.

He nibbled on his quill as he looked over her next questions. He’d never thought about his favourite anything. He looked around at his stuff to see if any colour stood out. Red?

Maybe last year, but it didn’t seem quite right anymore...

_ I like green_, he wrote. He was too shy to say that the choice was due to the only connection he had to her for years. _ But any would be great! I haven’t thought about the other things, but even just a room and a bed would be more than enough. _

_ Not too much green, please, _ he added. _ Not the Slytherin shade either. _He didn’t want his first real room to look like the Slytherin dorms, after all. 

As he looked back at her letter, he noticed something… his mother wrote the letter g the same way he did. 

For some reason, he wanted to cry at every proof that it was really his mum out there, and she was _ alive_. The threat of tears increased at her request for a name for her owl.

He had the perfect name, and he wrote it down quickly.

Harry might get reprimanded tomorrow for sleeping on the first day of classes, but he couldn't care less right now.

After signing the letter and sending it off with Hedwig, he listed all the good things in his life on a smaller piece of parchment. His mum, his friends, Hogwarts. 

His beloved friend was granted a professorship, and that chance was great regardless of any doubts. He might also have a godfather very soon. He had a _ home _to look forward to for the holidays.

He folded the list up and hid it underneath his pillow. Rubbing his eyes, he sunk into his welcoming mattress, the covers surrounding him like a protective embrace. 

* * *

The next morning, Lily had a very stern talk with her… coerced visitor… and sent her away with strict instructions.

Oh hell, she should be honest with herself. Rita Skeeter was a hostage, and a very annoying one, at that. 

Lily Potter had spent enough time with Animagi to sense the almost unnoticeable magic surrounding one in their animal form. She didn’t know it was Skeeter at the time, but she instantly knew that it was no ordinary beetle that crawled up her cloak.

She knew the counterspell too, of course, what with James enjoying the transformation too much regardless of propriety. She deftly cast it on the beetle before it could scuttle too far away. 

And behold the blonde journalist who seemed determined to stick her nose wherever she smelled a good story. 

Nosy, but might prove useful for their situation. If Skeeter followed their arrangement, that is, but Lily could trust someone who had something they wanted to protect.

She would leave for Hogsmeade once the sun began to set. For now, she would attend to her other errands.

The meeting with Ragnok earlier had gone smoothly, and she would have to accompany some handiwizards to the cottage soon to assess everything. Ragnok had strongly recommended a house-elf, and though Lily never felt truly comfortable with the unpaid servitude, she could admit that the idea of handling all the households by herself was overwhelming.

_ That was more of Effie’s talent, _she mused, sadly remembering her parents-in-law that were hardly mourned enough due to the war.

The Potter family had house-elves, of course. Fleamont and Euphemia treated them well and were rather fond of them, especially the latter who enjoyed delving into household matters and believed in a hands-on approach.

All of them were freed by James, at Lily’s insistence, so that they could properly protect themselves and each other during the war. 

She winced, remembering how a few of them glared at her, while the rest sobbed at James’ feet. _ They would answer to me, since I’m next of kin, but they wouldn’t be all that pleased. _

_ Harry had a house elf friend, didn’t he? _

Yes, the one that got him in trouble last year, but seemed to mean well. She’d write to Harry about him, and propose an agreement. She won’t mind paying for the house-elf’s employment — in fact, it would make her feel better.

Harry’s letter was currently left open on her desk, as she wasn’t sure where to begin her reply. 

Firstly, she was outraged at the thought of Dementors being so close to the children. What was the Ministry thinking? As if Sirius would blatantly board the train… well, the idea wasn’t as unlikely in retrospect, but still! 

Harry had assured her that he was fine, but she sent him chocolate right away just in case, even if she only had time for a short note. She could only trust him to be telling the truth and do her best with that, since she couldn’t storm the Hogwarts administration at the moment.

Another surprise was the mention of Severus Snape.

Harry only said _ Professor Snape, _but who else could the Potions master glaring at Moony all night be? 

Lily didn’t know how to feel about this information. She was completely sure that Severus went on to become a Death Eater after they graduated, but… he must’ve reformed? Or regained Dumbledore’s trust? There were obviously missing pieces, and she would only have time to gather them after everything else.

Still, if students noticed his ire, then he was failing as a professional. She’d have to mention that to Remus, perhaps.

She pursed her lips. All this hiding and lack of much freedom was reminiscent of the time in the war, before…

Lily closed her eyes. The abundant time alone after sending her son off was making it harder not to remember that her husband was gone.

_ Shush. You need to be strong for Harry. A lot has to be settled in both your lives. _

The next step was to inform Harry of her past friendship with Severus, and their school years.

The part of the conversation that might shed a harsher light on James, though, she’d prefer to be face-to-face. Gryffindor-Slytherin interactions seemed to be sensitive, still, and James had many bad habits as a student. 

If Severus was his teacher, how much did he already know? 

His father was flawed, but at the same time, the James she married was a good man. Hopefully, Harry understood soon after they had the surely difficult conversation.

Lily put a palm against her temple. So much to do, so many things to manage blindly.

_ Keep it together for Harry. _

Her young eagle owl flew to her shoulder and hooted softly. She laughed and reached up to stroke between his tufts.

“You’ll be helping me out, won’t you, Fortuna?” He huffed in agreement and flew back towards the desk, as if urging her to get on with the letter so he could do his job. 

She smiled. “It’s all for Harry, isn’t it?”

_ Remember that. _

* * *

The chocolates Lily sent got rid of any lingering cold from the Dementors, so Harry made sure to share with all his friends in the morning, especially Ginny.

He couldn’t help but check on Malfoy at breakfast, too. 

The Slytherin was still subdued, but seemed to manage conversation with his classmates today. 

George followed his line of sight after passing out their course schedules.

“Malfoy wasn’t too happy with the Dementors,” he told Harry. “Ran into our compartment, didn’t he, Fred? Never seen him without his bodyguards.”

“Nearly wet himself,” Fred agreed. “Can’t say I wasn’t the same, though.”

“Forget him,” Ron complained. “He’s better this way, isn’t he? He’s not bothering us. Look, Hermione’s schedule is all messed up!”

Harry wasn’t sure he agreed with the conclusion, but allowed himself to be drawn into the first day of classes. He didn’t look back at the Slytherin table when they left.

The way to the Divination classroom was taxing, to say the least. They’d gotten lost and Harry would’ve been tired after that even if he wasn’t sleep-deprived.

The sickly scent wafting around the classroom didn’t help, either.

Professor Trelawney’s introduction was… interesting. She managed to terrify Neville and Lavender, annoy Hermione, and make Parvati keep a suspicious eye on Ron, all in five minutes. 

Harry partnered with Ron for the tea-reading. The scalding drink woke him up a bit, but the warmth that settled in his body made him feel drowsy again.

Ron swilled the dregs in his cup and swapped with Harry. Surprisingly, or not, they couldn’t see anything other than soggy brown dregs.

At the teacher’s admonishment, Harry straightened and try to take the task seriously.

“Hmm, trials and suffering for you because of the cross thing,” he said, stifling a yawn. “But you’ll be happy, too, see? There’s a wobbly sun up there. Good for you.”

After exchanging several ridiculous interpretations and laughs, Professor Trelawney seemed to get fed up, and grabbed Harry’s cup from Ron.

While Hermione’s snarky comments were amusing, it still was a letdown to be told his death was coming soon. Especially since most of the class seemed to understand enough to be horrified by the word “Grim”. 

“I haven’t been to any churchyards ever in my life,” Harry informed them. 

“These things go beyond the physical, my dear!” Trelawney cried. “You are haunted by the worst omen of all! Oh poor dear…”

After that, she dismissed the class, claiming distress.

“You reckon there’s anything to that?” he asked his friends outside. 

Hermione huffed. “Of course not! Even if wet tea leaves could somehow accurately predict the future, she’s obviously focusing too much on the affectations. She was terrifying poor Neville!”

“She was right though,” Ron argued. “About him breaking the cup…”

“He was nervous, of course he was going to break it!”

“Better safe than sorry, though, right?”

“Harry just has to inform us right away if he sees giant dog spectres, then! Even you must realize that that sounds like a load of rubbish.”

“But he’s _ Harry_, loads of rubbish always happens to him!”

That made Harry snort. “Don’t fight, guys. We’ll deal with whatever happens, right? It’s not like she gave a deadline. Let’s just get to class. I promise to tell you if I ever decide to enter a churchyard.”

They quieted down, but the closer they got to the Transfiguration classroom, the more Hermione avoided his glances.

“Hermione? You’ve been shifty around me since dinner,” he finally said.

“Um.” A pained expression twisted her face. “Harry, I might have done something…”

Harry waited, unsure where this was going. The classroom was a few feet away, and hopefully she got to it quick. 

“When I met Professor McGonagall last night…”

“Oh, she warned about Black, didn’t she?” Harry guessed, feeling relieved as they got to the door. “It’s fine, Hermione, Mum’s already told me all about that!” It was disappointing that Lily asked in her note that he wait first before sharing anything about Sirius Black, but he understood. Maybe she’d allow him in tonight’s letter, if her meeting with Lupin went well.

“No, Harry—!”

“It’s fine!” he assured her, not wanting to deal with any questioning. 

He quickly got a seat in front, both to silence Hermione and to ensure that he wouldn’t have to see his classmates shoot any more fearful glances at him. Even Ron was grimacing whenever they made eye contact, so Harry focused on the lesson.

Professor McGonagall was discussing Animagi, which sounded really cool even though the process of becoming one was very complicated. Harry wondered if he could choose his own form, and asked.

“Very good question, Mr. Potter. Five points to Gryffindor for starting the year with enthusiasm. And for actually paying attention.” She gave a pointed look at the rest of the class. 

“Of course more wizards would be willing to undergo the complex process if they could choose, but an Animagus form is tied to the personality of the wizard,” she informed them. “Even if wizards tried to focus very hard on a desired animal form, the length of time the process takes would eventually make the attempt ineffective.

“What animal would be your choice if it were possible, Mr. Potter?”

Harry thought about it, and shrugged. “A great black dog would be cool.” The rest of the class gasped and started whispering behind him.

“Is there a joke I have been missing in the entirety of this lesson?” McGonagall called out in irritation, a hand on her hip.

“Sorry, Professor,” Harry said. “Gallows humour, since I’m apparently going to die soon. Professor Trelawney said so.”

The censored rant about the Divination teacher that followed was comforting and entertaining. Harry hoped it appeased his peers, especially Ron.

As class ended, McGonagall asked that Harry stay behind.

“I must admit, Mr. Potter, that I am glad you are able to take all this in stride,” she began, folding her hands on top of her desk. 

“Oh… thanks, Professor.”

“I’m also heartened by your participation today, even though it led to a joke in arguably poor taste. Shall I expect you to be more involved in class for the rest of the year?”

Harry shrugged. “I dunno, the topic was interesting today—not that it isn't always the case!” he backtracked quickly. “Erm, I’ll try. It’s been a good summer. I had a lot of time to spend in the bookstore, and there were a few cool books that made me think that learning about… stuff might be great?”

“Ah, yes.” She leaned forward. “Might this newfound interest also be caused by your guardian for the summer?”

Harry froze. “Sorry?”

“Ms. Granger mentioned last night that you gained a… mentor of sorts over the holidays, after you had to leave your relatives’ house. May I know who has vastly improved the mood of my student?” She said all this with a light tone, but there was a scrutinizing look in her eyes that Harry didn’t like.

_ Hermione…! _

“It was no one, really. Just a witch I met at the Leaky Cauldron,” he said, hands clammy. “She’s… very good at charms or something, which is why Hermione might’ve remembered her.”

McGonagall hummed. “I hope you didn’t spend your entire summer conversing with strangers?”

“I only met her yesterday.” None of what Harry was saying were lies, exactly.

“You must understand my concern, Mr. Potter, there is a dangerous criminal—”

“I know!” Lowering his volume, he tried again. “I know, Professor. Mr. Weasley told me about that too. I understand.”

That seemed to assuage her concern a bit. “Alright, then, go off to lunch. Be _ careful, _Mr. Potter. I hope to get more participation from you in the coming lessons.” He nodded, and left.

Hermione and Ron were waiting for him outside, the former looking frantic. 

“Let’s go,” he told Ron stiffly. 

He ignored Hermione’s “Harry!” and didn’t wait for them to follow him to the Great Hall.

Hermione grabbed his arm. “Harry, I’m sorry!” she cried. “It just slipped out when we were talking about my courses, I swear!”

Harry closed his eyes. “Hermione, I don’t want to talk about this right now, not where _ more _people could find out things they shouldn’t.”

Her eyes were wet, but she let go. They both ignored Ron’s confused whispers.

* * *

The tension escalated during lunch, when Ron and Hermione in turn fought about the Grim, Trelawney’s accuracy, and how Hermione was close-minded. 

Harry practically shoved his lunch down in one go, and went out early for Care of Magical Creatures.

The fresh air did make him feel better. He planned to wait for the rest of the class on the stone steps, when he noticed Malfoy a little bit away, sitting alone on the grass.

He hesitated, then dug around his pockets. 

“Hey Malfoy?” he asked, approaching the field. When the Slytherin jumped and whipped his head around, he held out the last of the chocolate his mum sent. “Want some?”

Malfoy scowled. “Do you think I’m dumb enough to let you poison me, Potter?”

“Not _ that _ dumb,” Harry replied, half-grinning as the scowl deepened. “Come on, the Dementors sucked for all of us. Chocolate makes you feel better, so prove you aren’t dumb. Take it.”

The Slytherin stiffened even more. “Mind your own business, Potter. I certainly don’t need your _ charity_.” 

_Stubborn git, _Harry thought, and decided he didn’t have to keep that to himself. “Stubborn git.”

“Don’t insult me like you’re better than me, Potter. _ You’re _ the one who came here. I have no obligation to respond to your harrassment.”

Harry sighed and plopped on the grass a few feet away. “So which is it, Malfoy? Am I helping or harassing?”

Pointy nose went up. “Treating me like a charity case isn’t help, you dunderhead. I know you’re just here to mock me. Going to run to your friends and laugh about poor little Malfoy? Eat shit.”

“Bloody hell,” Harry muttered under his breath. “I’m not _ you_. Look, I just offered, okay? I don’t _ have _to attempt to help your scrawny bottom, but I wanted to. Without any intentions to reveal — what, exactly? That Draco Malfoy likes sweets? The whole school probably knows that already.”

He stood up. “I’m going to leave you alone now, but put it in your daft brain that _ you’re _ awful to me and my friends, and we retaliate. I don’t attack for no reason, unlike some people, so I’m not trying to mock you right now, okay?”

“Teach your pet Weasel that, then.” Before Harry could ask what that meant, Malfoy mimicked a swoon. “Ooh, I’m so lucky. Saint Potter noticed me, Saint Potter wants to save me.” His voice hardened. “Tell me, why would Saint Potty bother?”

“Ugh, maybe I just _ don’t want you to suddenly collapse _ or something_. _ You know, I actually care about stuff like that. Like a _ decent person._”

He hesitated, then added. “‘Sides, it’s weird when you’re all… quiet like this.”

“Malfoys _ never _collapse,” was the reply but there was a sudden, probably involuntary grin that followed. It was surprising and a little too wicked for Harry’s taste, but not exactly unwelcome. “You miss my regal presence, then, Scarhead? My undeniable wit? My glorious personality?”

“Like I’d miss your pointy self poking everywhere,” Harry snorted. “I’m just trying not to be a prick.”

“Suuure. Can’t live without me, can you?”

Another sigh. “Shut up, Malfoy.”

The familiar pompous demeanor was fully recovered. “You say that, but you’re the one who said you couldn’t take not talking to me.”

“I did _ not _—” Harry stopped when the other strutted towards Harry and held out his hand.

_ What…? _ Malfoy wasn’t holding a wand, so he wasn’t about to throw a hex. 

Harry reflexively lifted his own hand, but Malfoy shook his head right away. 

“The chocolate, you idiot,” he demanded. “Reparations. For insulting my honor while I was… not at my best. And in exchange for my gracing you with my presence.”

Harry bit his lip to keep from smiling, but Malfoy saw through it and scowled, grabbing the bar and stalking away. 

“Dunno if it’s fancy enough for your pompous arse, but you’re welcome!”

Malfoy muttered something like “bloody Gryffindors and their sweets” and munched on the chocolate, turning away from Harry.

There was quiet then, and neither of them broke it. Harry kept looking at Malfoy, and could swear that his pointy ears were turning red. 

The ridiculous but nonviolent interaction caught up to Harry, and his face started to feel hot, as well. 

Maybe this was a mistake — the air felt even weirder now than when Malfoy was being all mopey. It was awkward all of a sudden, and Harry wanted to squirm.

However, as the other students started heading towards Hagrid’s hut, Harry realized that his own mood was definitely improved by the exchange.

More surprisingly, it seemed that maybe, possibly… there was a small chance that… Malfoy... wasn’t that bad when it was just the two of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Things to look forward to next chapter: more actual Sirius and getting him free, slight actual Lily in society, finally CoMC, and what’s that??? more conflict + team ups than u expected?? wOW
> 
> 2\. I mentioned it in the comments already but official confession: I’ve never read a Lily Potter a/o James Potter lives AU*
> 
> But Athegreat1 was asking in the comments if I knew similar fics to this one, so if anyone would like to recommend anything to them, feel free! 
> 
> *(except that popular drarry one where they banished Harry to protect his sister, which deviates a lot from what we know about them hehe)
> 
> 3\. RE: UPDATE SCHEDULE
> 
> I won’t be able to update anymore this year since there’s a real-life January deadline that I have to focus on entirely. Ever since December started, I’ve been stressed and panicking to the point of it affecting me physically. Fun fun fun
> 
> I want nothing more rn than to procrastinate by updating this fic as often as I have been, but oh well! I need to at least TRY to work towards getting paid someday.
> 
> However, I didn’t want to just yeet out without proper notice, so I hope you enjoyed the chapter. The editing wasn’t as thorough this time, though, pls forgive, I have to work again after uploading this I cry
> 
> So this is it for now! Happy holidays, may your season be jolly. See you in 2020!


	8. The First Concrete Steps

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a holiday present for you and me. Cheers!
> 
> P.S. I don't believe in emphasising accents when the English is still understandable, it just doesn't make sense to me. So yeah! Of the top of my head, Hagrid, Viktor, Fleur, etc won't have the dialogue style they do in the canon books. Viktor and Fleur in particular will still have errors since they're not fluent (i.g "Herm-own-ninny", and mistakes), but Fleur would say "Harry" instead of "'Arry" since we all know that's what she means. 
> 
> I'm saying this now because Hagrid speaks here. I'm sorry if this ruins immersion, but it's not going to change.

Well. Malfoy was still pretty bad in general.

Harry felt Ron and Hermione flank him, but he was still contemplating Malfoy’s ears and the strange air between them. Ron followed his gaze.

“What'd Malfoy do this time?” 

Malfoy must've heard, and he turned to sneer back at them, chocolate nowhere to be seen. He opened his mouth, but Parkinson, who has rushed to his side as soon as she saw him, replied first. 

“Why would Draco do something? If anything, Potter was probably about to hex his back!” 

Harry cocked his head, then decided he was still in a good mood. “And why would I do that?” he inquired amiably. She flinched at his grin.

“Yeah,” Ron snapped. Apparently, he hadn't warmed up to the idea of treating the Slytherins lightly. “He's not a bloody _ Slytherin._ Harry’s worth ten of you lot! Malfoy was probably baiting him.”

“Worth ten of us, is he?” Malfoy finally spoke, but his previously neutral expression was now contorted. The way he glared at Ron was so much… meaner than his scowls at Harry when they were talking earlier. “Is that why you hang about him, Weasel? To make up for your own worthlessness?”

Harry furrowed his eyebrows. Hermione gave an angry huff beside him, but all he could focus on was the tang of betrayal. 

Annoyed that he was dim enough to feel betrayed over _ Malfoy,_ he put more force in his words that he would’ve otherwise. “Don't talk to Ron that way. You've no right, you ungrateful git!”

Parkinson was screeching in the background, and Hermione was curtly replying. Crabbe and Goyle materialized from who knows where, and Ron was cracking his knuckles.

Harry ignored all this, caught by how Malfoy’s grey eyes observed him coldly. “Ah. Glad to see you're all healed from your illness. _ Thank you _ for your time, Potter.” With that, he turned and walked away. Parkinson shot Harry a look of pure venom before pulling Crabbe and Goyle towards their friend. 

“Harry,” Hermione called hesitantly. “Harry, your hands are shaking.”

He looked down to confirm. He couldn't make them still, so he shoved them in the pockets of his robes. However, this didn't help the pounding of his heart and the buzzing in his head. He started stomping off to Hagrid’s hut.

What did he expect? Malloy had _ always _been a git, and he probably always would be. 

_ If some chocolate were enough to make him decent,_ Harry thought nastily. He’d _ be the saint. Probably would've been born hugging children, as unimaginable that would be. Stupid, entitled prick. _

Harry tried to exhale the irritation as he neared his classmates. He wanted to be in a good mindset to support Hagrid’s first class. 

Of course, Malfoy had no such adjustments in mind. 

“How?” he’d drawled after Hagrid had led them to a paddock and told them to open their books. 

When Hagrid expressed confusion, Malfoy sighed dramatically, and dangled his book tied up in rope. “How do we open our books?” 

Hagrid looked crestfallen at the idea that no one had figured out how to open their books, so Harry took his own calm _ Monster _book out. “You have to stroke the spine,” he volunteered. 

“Professor,” he added. Hagrid beamed at him.

“Right! Good lad, Harry, good lad. Now look, here’s where to do it…” He demonstrated with Hermione’s book.

“Oh, how silly we’ve all been!” Malfoy sneered. “_Stroke _ them, why didn’t we guess? The rest of us who don’t have Potter’s genius, I mean.”

Hagrid’s face fell and Harry really wanted to sock the git’s face already.

“I — I thought there were funny…”

“Oh, tremendously funny! Really witty, giving us books that try and rip our hands off!”

Harry snapped. “_Shut up,_ Malfoy,” he hissed. _ He has a point, but does he have to be so bloody unpleasant about it?! _

Stroking the spine was… unconventional. But so was Hagrid! Hogwarts was a school that had all sorts. Binns was far worse than Hagrid.

_ For now,_ the traitorous part of Harry’s mind said — the same part that reminded him that his mum had the better idea about how to help Hagrid. No matter how much Harry denied it.

As Hagrid led them into the forest, Malfoy started complaining in that loud, dramatic way he favoured. “— teaching classes, my father will have a fit when I tell him —”

_ You wanted _ this _ back? _he scolded himself. The peace and quiet from the night before was starting to sound heavenly.

He couldn’t help but grimace when he realized that, again, Malfoy had a bloody point. Lily Potter probably wouldn’t be so pleased either.

_ It’s just the first few minutes! Hagrid will do better. They just don’t know him yet. _

Encouraged, Harry was the first to approach the fence near the hippogriffs, followed slowly by Ron and Hermione.

He smiled privately. The three of them weren’t on the best terms right now, but they always had each other’s backs.

“— they’re proud,” Hagrid was saying, more confident now that he was around the magical creatures. “Easily offended, they are, so don’t ever insult one —”

Harry could hear Malfoy talking to his Housemates in an undertone. He turned to see that the Slytherins were clearly not listening.

“Malfoy, don’t insult them, you hear?” Harry hissed to the blond. When Malfoy looked up and raise an eyebrow, he exhaled in irritation. “If you want to be critical of the class, then at least _ pay attention._ Be polite to the hippogriffs, they’re not going to care how much gold comes out your arse.”

With that, he turned back to Hagrid. Not wanting to hear any of Malfoy’s indignant protests, he volunteered to approach the magical creatures. 

His fellow Gryffindors proved to be equally annoying when they warned him off, reminding him of his tea leaves, and all other rubbish he’d rather the Slytherins didn’t hear.

To be fair, Buckbeak’s talons were not easy to dismiss, even without Trelawney basically cursing him. He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from grimacing as the grey hippogriff was led towards him.

“...try not to blink, they don’t trust you if you blink too much…”

Buckbeak had orange eyes, similar to how Lily described her owl. The fierce colour eyed him critically.

_ Yeah, some luck would be brilliant right about now... _

“That’s it, easy does it, now bow…”

Harry hesitated for a second, very fond of his neck and unwilling to expose it, but he complied.

...And waited.

Buckbeak was still eyeing him. Hagrid started telling him to back away.

While he didn’t want to die, Harry kept his gaze on the creature. It wasn’t attacking, nor doing anything particularly threatening. 

It was proud and distrustful, but regal and demanded respect. It kinda reminded him of Malfoy.

Kind of. Harry doubted Buckbeak spent his free time insulting everyone he met on the daily.

Buckbeak eventually bowed back, to Hagrid’s obvious relief. The hippogriff took a step forward, stopping immediately. He was still feet away, but Harry took that as an invitation to approach with his hand extended.

Wondering how incensed Malfoy would be at being patted this way, Harry grinned. He looked back when the class broke into applause, but Buckbeak butted his hand to regain his attention.

“Right then, Harry, I reckon he might let you ride him!”

Harry bit his lip, apprehensive. Buckbeak was great and all, but…

Hagrid was looking at him hopefully, though, and that made Harry give in.

“May I ride you?” he murmured to Buckbeak in a respectful tone. The hippogriff replied by lowering himself so that Harry can hoist himself over the feathery back.

The flight was rocky and uncomfortable. Harry personally preferred his broomstick — it felt safer and smoother and didn’t threaten motion sickness.

They landed with a thud after circling the paddock a bit. All in all, the worst ride of Harry’s life, but he could appreciate the fact that such a proud creature allowed him to take it.

“Thank you,” he told the hippogriff, bowing as everyone else in the clearing cheered.

The rest of the class spread out to approach the hippogriffs themselves. Harry leaned against a tree, still feeling a tad woozy as he watched Ron and Hermione approach a chestnut-coloured one.

Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle had taken over Buckbeak, who had not strayed too far from Harry. When Malfoy was allowed to pet the beak, Harry snorted again at the comparison he’d made of the two.

Malfoy’s eyes slid to Harry. “Problem, Potter?”

He was still an annoying prat, but Harry should be the bigger person when he could. “Just noting the similarities,” he said cheerfully, returning to the strategy of staying pleasant. 

Malfoy looked at Buckbeak, then back at Harry, a scowl starting to form. “Are you calling me —”

“Princely?” Harry cut in before Malfoy could say anything nasty. He pointedly fixed his gaze on Buckbeak, and Malfoy seemed to get the point. 

“Of course,” Malfoy recovered smoothly. “It’s an honour to be compared to a majestic creature. I bet he already likes me more than you.”

Harry didn’t really mind if that was the case — maybe Malfoy would switch his broomstick out for hippogriffs — but he played along. “Of course, the two of you would make a great pair — maybe he’d smooth your pointy edges.”

It seemed he said something wrong, because Malfoy’s eyes shuttered. “Is that your motive, then?” It was obvious when he focused on Buckbeak’s neck that he didn’t expect an answer.

Harry frowned. Motive? Of course it’d be brilliant if Malfoy stopped being… Malfoy, but… 

But no, he’d been worried (yes, he was worried, damn it) since last night because Malfoy was _ not _being himself. However he was still enraged at Malfoy’s awful behaviour.

He didn’t really understand what he was feeling, and so was at a loss on what to say.

Malfoy gave a short laugh at his expression. “Don’t worry, Potter, so far only I can tell your saintly act’s a fake.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I’m not faking anything.”

“Liar, liar.”

This was getting too close to how the Dursleys would scold him for something he didn’t understand. He straightened to turn to Malfoy fully. “I’m not a liar.”

“Careful, Potter, you might actually start believing yourself.”

Harry’s fists were clenched to the point of pain. “Malfoy.” _ I will not start a fight in Hagrid’s class. I won’t. _

“Harry, is everything all right?” Hermione called from behind him.

Malfoy grinned maliciously. “Don’t worry, _ Scarhead,_ your secret is safe with me.”

Maybe it was the venomous moniker, maybe it was the way Harry moved to charge in Malfoy’s direction. Maybe it was because Crabbe and Goyle got too close to Buckbeak’s rump. Maybe it was the steadily rising tension in general.

It happened very quickly. Buckbeak reared up with a loud threatening noise and a flash of talons. Harry went from attempting to punch Malfoy to pushing him down with his whole weight to get him out of the way. Malfoy grasped at Harry as they both fell, but that wasn’t what caused the sharp pain in the back of Harry’s right shoulder.

Breathing heavily, he immediately turned back in case the hippogriff was still wild. Thankfully, Hagrid had successfully wrestled Buckbeak back into his collar. 

Malfoy groaned beneath him, and Harry partially got off. His back was wet, but not enough to seep much through… Madam Pomfrey was going to be very put out with him.

Malfoy hadn’t moved much. More concerning was that he wasn’t saying anything, complaining, announcing his death, _ anything._

Hermione went to the other side of the Slytherin as the class murmured in fear. She gasped softly when Harry turned Malfoy’s head and there was blood pooling above his left ear, quickly soaking the blond hair.

Horrified, Harry thought he must’ve pushed Malfoy down too hard, but no… there was a gash that was definitely made by claws near his temple.

Hermione called for Hagrid to take him to the hospital wing. It almost surprised Harry that Malfoy was taken from his arms.

He slowly stood up. Ron was at his side to support him, and they slowly followed after Hagrid.

* * *

Lily Apparated to Hogsmeade, both her glamour and hood on as she entered Hog’s Head. It was quiet, a lot of customers spread out that evening. Most were rowdy men trying to outdrink each other.

She chose one of the many shadowed corners. The old bartender just eyed her, and resumed his conversation with someone at the bar. Unlike if she were in the Leaky, she wasn’t offered anything, and that suited her just fine.

The bond was singing at being so near Hogwarts, but if she were going to follow through that metaphor, it was rather like vengeful opera asking why she wasn’t rushing to her son right now.

She sighed. 

Remus arrived a bit after she did, and automatically slid into the chair across her without saying anything. She cast _ Muffliato _ as he settled.

“Lily,” he started with uncertainty, and she knew that she wouldn’t like what was about to be said.

“Is Harry alright?” she quickly asked.

Fortunately, he nodded. “Yes, just a tussle in a class, or so I heard. He got scratched but left the hospital wing just minutes after.”

She furrowed her brows. “What class? Yours?”

“No, I haven’t had him today. Care of Magical Creatures. You’ll have to write Harry to get the full picture, but I do know the scratch was from a hippogriff. Allegedly he was arguing with young Mr. Malfoy, but as you can imagine, the Slytherins and Gryffindors have different takes on the story.”

Lily had to stay silent for a moment, forcing herself to breathe. She wasn’t pleased at all. “If Harry wasn’t discharged quickly, I’d be storming the school,” she informed him. _ Calm. Good. _“However, I admit that Sirius takes precedence right now. Still, hospital wing on the first day? Unsupervised fighting?” 

“You’d think he was raised by James.” They exchanged sad smiles at this. 

Blinking the shadow away, she leaned forward. “What’s the update, then? I can’t believe they have Dementors here and around the school. Dumbledore is really allowing this?”

Remus sighed. “I don’t believe he was given much of a choice. The most he could do was insist that under no circumstances would they be allowed near the students.”

Lily doubted the surety of that rule, but touched on another matter she needed to address.

“When you left Diagon, you were determined to bring Dumbledore into this,” she recalled. “What changed your mind?”

Remus’ eyes took that foggy state she often had to jostle him out of. “Your hesitation was obvious but I admit I didn’t think much of it,” he said, rubbing his eyes. “But when I went to meet with him and McGonagall…”

Lily waited, though she had suspicions on what happened. 

“I broached the topic of Sirius,” he continued, thought the name seemed difficult to say. “Hypotheticals, you know. What if there was a mistake, what if he was innocent?” She nodded. “He… seemed to be very sure that Sirius deserved his fate. I don’t know what he was thinking — who ever does? — but, he gently suggested that I might be succumbing to the nostalgia of the school.” 

He worried his lower lip. “Lily, he said he contributed to the evidence against Sirius before. Of course none of this means he’s doing it on purpose. Merlin, what a thought. But he was quite convinced, and I just felt…” he trailed off.

She took his hand and squeezed. “I am okay with trusting your gut on this. As you said, I have my own… reservations.” Lily was aware of how loyal Remus was to Dumbledore — everyone during the war was. However, Remus’ admiration was rooted in how Dumbledore treated his lycanthropy even back when they were students. He would always be grateful to his Headmaster.

That didn’t diminish his character at all, of course. _ But it would break his heart especially if Dumbledore turns out to have purposely thrown Sirius to the Dementors for whatever reason, _she thought. 

“I don’t know Dumbledore’s motivations,” she said slowly, firm in her hold on his hand. “But I am suspicious because he contributed to the evidence against Sirius while aware that Peter was our Secret-Keeper.”

Immediately, Remus wrenched his hand away as he stood. His eyes flashed red.

“What?” It was strangely painful to observe how his stance was aggressive but his voice was heartbroken.

The other patrons barely gave them a glance, but the bartender started flicking his eyes at them more often.

“Moony…” she rose to pull him back to his seat. “Moony, I don’t want to jump to the wrong conclusions — we know it’s too easy for me to do so right now. But you should know.” Honestly, she would very much like to act on the obvious conclusions, but not when everything could so easily go wrong due to her ignorance.

The fog was returning a bit, but he closed his eyes. “Yes. Yes, of course. He must have a good reason…” 

_ That _ was another conclusion she doubted enough to avoid for now, but she let her friend have his peace. “In any case, Padfoot is the important one right now,” she reminded him. “You said the owl returned without a reply?”

“Yes, and quite ruffled.”

Lily thought on that. “He received it, but was probably spooked. He _ is _on the run after all. While I don’t know why the Aurors haven’t tried trailing him with an owl, I’m glad we did it first.”

“But he’ll be more cautious now. He’ll probably try to acquire a wand.”

She nodded, leaning her chin on her hand. “We won’t be able to contact him that way again. Actually... I thought we might use the papers. Is the Prophet still widely read?”

He blanched. “Sirius is smart and is probably keeping up with the news as much as he can… but all the news that’s selling are the ones sensationalizing the danger he poses. What’s your plan to convince them to write anything else?”

“We’re not going to ask them to print that he’s innocent, of course,” she assured him. “Even if for some reason they accept, the Ministry won't let that slide. However, I acquired a Prophet journalist who’s willing to help us.”

“Lily, _ Daily Prophet _journalists don’t usually ‘help’...”

“Perhaps ‘willing’ is too loose a term,” she said simply. “But she will do as I say.”

Remus looked like he wanted to say something about that, but wisely went in another direction. “Still, how does that get the Prophet to print anything to our favour? What do you want to have written, exactly? Between me and your glamour, we don’t really have much pull.”

“My journalist knows who I am.” She raised a hand to quell his protests. “Of course normally I’d be concerned, but we struck a deal, she and I. It doesn’t matter for now if she knows, because I’m going to ask Sirius’ case to be reopened when I present myself to the Wizengamot.”

“Lily!”

“I’ve read up a bit on laws, and consulted my journalist. I can be taken under Wizard Witness Protection since the suspect of the case is on the run. This will force everyone who is to know I am alive to take an Unbreakable Vow beforehand to never reveal my identity. Then, I can present my testimony.”

Remus sighed, but the sound had a tinge of fondness. “I see you’ve got it all planned then. I suppose when that goes public, your journalist will carry our message?”

“Yes. I need you for that. She’ll be interviewing you, as a close friend of Sirius. You come up with a code, a message only Sirius would understand, to confirm that the news isn’t bait, and perhaps to meet somewhere.” She paused. “We definitely have to meet him first before the Ministry gets to him. I have a feeling that they’re not going to make it easy. Dumbledore is Chief Warlock?”

At Remus’ nod, she smiled wryly. “Good. I can request for another overseer since I have evidence of Sirius’ innocence that he neglected to provide in the past. He’s too involved in the case, and might be biased.”

Lily noticed that his eyes were glassy through the fog. “Moony, what’s wrong?”

Her companion rubbed the back of his neck. “I… am ashamed to say that I don’t know much about Sirius’ trial. After everything… I went into isolation as soon as I could. I did him wrong. Merlin, and I called myself his friend…” He inhaled sharply.

“Oh Moony,” she cried. “We’ll do him better, won’t we? We’re fixing things now, and then you’ll have all the time in the world to make it up to him.”

He took her hands and pressed his mouth against them. “Thank you, Lily. Thank you for coming back.”

She moved her wrists to cup his face gently. “Darling Moony, I just wish I could’ve returned sooner.”

* * *

The lights in the hospital wing were dimmed as evening came, especially so around Draco’s bed. 

He’d been asked to stay the night to observe if his injury from the hippogriff and concussion from the fall would affect him still. Potter, of course, got healed quickly and was allowed to leave. Draco sniffed at the reminder of Potter’s damn luck.

His head throbbed, for sure. Thankfully, there would be no scarring on his face since they got him to the hospital wing quickly. He had no recollection of the trip here, but he imagined a rather unflattering image of the gamekeeper (he did _ not _deserve the title Professor) flopping him about.

That man was a hazard. He couldn’t _wait_ to write to his Father. He’d been wary of this Hagrid ever since he had to serve detention in the Forbidden Forest in first year, and so far the oaf has not proven that he could be trusted.

Potter and his band of idiots would probably do something to prevent their _ friend _from being punished, even if Potter himself was hurt. 

_ Hardly,_ he reminded himself. _ He barely got scratched. _ However, he _ was _ aware that if not for Potter, he would have probably been ripped into ribbons. Even though Potter was clearly about to punch him, Draco _ was _goading him beforehand, though he’d never admit it. It’s not like Potter had no faults.

Draco scowled, remembering how Potter called him an ingrate. The nerve! People called _ him _pompous while Potter was out there collecting dues for forcing his way into Draco’s space.

_ The chocolate was good though,_ said the painkillers.

Sadly, it was difficult to properly glare at oneself. _Nothing but poisoned bait, _he insisted.

There was a loud footstep, and some whispered swearing. Draco tensed as the subject of his thoughts appeared from behind his curtain.

“Potter, what the fuck? You here to finish me off?” _A viable strategy to save their friend, perhaps?_

Potter pursed his lips. “Shh! No, I came to check on you. Pomfrey wouldn’t let me in earlier, saying we might antagonize each other.”

“A valid assumption,” Draco muttered. He would like to sit up and grab his wand, but he was still drowsy from the potions.

When Potter remained silent, just staring down at him and fidgeting in the most annoying way, he had to speak up. “This definitely counts as harassment now,” he hissed. 

Potter blushed, but thank Merlin, finally began whatever he was here for. “Sorry... That’s what I’m here for, actually,” he said timidly. “I’m sorry for earlier.”

_ The medication must be really strong_. “Ugh, go away, hallucination.” He grumpily turned to his side and closed his eyes.

“Malfoy… er, I meant to push you out of the way… but obviously it wasn’t very effective, and the fall probably contributed to your head injury. So. I’m sorry.”

“Potter,” Draco said without opening his eyes. “I don’t need your arrogant modesty in the middle of the night. You saved me from further injury, now stop rubbing it in.”

“Er… about Hagrid. I’m sure you’ve written your dad, yeah?”

Ah, so that was Potter’s motive. He wanted to protect his friend, so he was currying favour. Draco turned back towards him, and managed to prop himself up with much difficulty. 

“I haven’t written _ Father _yet, but please let go of any hopes of negotiating the fate of your friend. If he’s not getting fired, which is possible because our Headmaster is unfortunately dim-witted, his hippogriff will probably be taken away.” Or worse, but Draco didn’t want to dwell on that. He might not care about the oaf’s punishment, but he’d request his father spare the creature if possible. He enjoyed petting it, and though he loathed agreeing with Potter, he could give respect to a creature that knew how to demand it.

Potter licked his lips nervously. “Um. Yeah, maybe. But I was actually hoping that… instead of sacking him, maybe you could suggest that they give him a chance to finish his education?”

Draco narrowed his eyes. “Why would I do that?”

Potter rubbed the shoulder where he was injured earlier. “Of course you’d be reluctant. Hagrid… wasn’t very responsible today. He’s not ready to be a professor. Even if he’s my friend, I can see that.”

Draco was still half-convinced that this was a medication-induced dream, but he waited to see what else this Potter would say. He would never have expected the prat to admit to any flaws, especially of his friends.

“I just, he’s been punished unfairly time and time again. I know it’s fair this time, don’t look at me like that! That’s why this is a request, that maybe you could try to get him schooled or something. Maybe somewhere else from Hogwarts, if you want,” Potter suggested, but it was clear he didn’t like the idea. 

This was all very interesting, but Draco’s question was still unanswered. “Again, Potter, why would _ I _do that?”

Jaw set, familiar determination directed with fierce green eyes replaced the nervous boy Draco didn’t really know what to do with. “I’ll consider it a favour.”

“Pardon?”

“A favour,” Potter said through his teeth. “That you can collect in kind.”

Draco raised an eyebrow. He’d comment on that arrogance of that offer, but honestly…

Potter got him there.

“Not _ any _ favour,” Potter amended when he saw Draco’s expression. “Nothing unreasonable.”

“I feel that our definitions of that word would differ.”

“No embarrassing my friends. No insulting my friends. I won’t do anything to sabotage Gryffindor, or anyone or anything else. I can say no to anything mean-spirited towards other people. Nothing that will last beyond a week at most.”

“So I’m allowed to embarrass, and insult you?” Draco clarified with interest. “For a _ week?_” 

Potter shrugged. “Nothing that will have significant and lasting effects. Back to no sabotage and all that. I won’t throw a Quidditch game, I won’t fail classes on purpose, I won’t eat or drink anything, et cetera.” 

“And you’re willing to sign on that?” _ Father would approve of the foresight. _

Potter nodded. Draco tried very hard not to express how giddy he felt. Sure, he wouldn’t be able to use this against others, but that wasn’t the only way to play. Draco prided himself in being creative.

He’d have to be creative with convincing Father, too, lest he get suspicious that Draco was getting soft or something. 

It sounded like a lot of fun. Draco had almost forgotten to be bitter about the fact Potter came in pretending to be concerned when he only wanted something from Draco.

“I ought to stop you from running your saintly hero act for a week.”

Potter let out a sigh. “Probably nothing will change, though I only have a mild idea of what you’re talking about.”

“I suppose Saint Potter only indulges in subterfuge when he wants something done for his friends?” Draco said this with more acid than he intended. He blamed his injury and again, medication. “I almost fell for the apology.”

Guilt flashed through green eyes. “You’re right,” Potter admitted. “Not about the apology, that was completely real. I’m glad you’re okay, Malfoy. But I shouldn’t have bothered you about this while you’re down. I just…”

“Wanted to make sure I didn’t get to the next item on my evil to-do list?” Draco asked wryly. _ Gryffindors, typical. _

Another flash of guilt. “Hagrid is my friend. I had to do something.”

Draco snorted in disdain. “Yes. And friends have flaws. Some more that others, as proven by your Weasel. Congratulations.” He made a shooing gesture. “Now go away. You’ve gotten what you wanted. I found something worthwhile in exchange. No need to linger.” 

Harry hesitated. “I really didn’t mean to… take advantage, or whatever you’re thinking.”

“Don’t worry, Potter,” Draco drawled in a way he was proud of. “Whatever I’m thinking, I’ll always remember to be _ grateful._” He wondered if Potter would connect that to his words earlier. The words that made Draco feel disgusting and used, despite the fact that he shouldn’t have been surprised.

_ No matter, as long as he _ sees _ me. For as long as I want him to. Let him growl in frustration, spend actions and sweat and shouts and words and emotions on me. _

The thoughts were old, but today they hurt more. _ Just a bit! Not enough to scratch, really. _

It seemed that Potter did make the connection, because he mumbled some worthless apology again, and left.

Draco tried to get back to a proper sleeping position on the subpar mattress. He forced himself to forget the pleasure of Potter’s recent nonviolent attention, and focus on the anger. If he was lucky, in the morning he wouldn’t remember how sweet the chocolate Potter threw at him tasted.

But more often than not, luck strayed far away from Draco Malfoy.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry is one confused boy. Draco's pretty sure he's got everything figured out. Wow I do not miss being thirteen.
> 
> Also, something horrible happened that delayed the project I was working on. I have been having actual harrowing dreams about missing the deadline. So I decided I needed to chill in the time I'm trying to solve the problem, and here's the product! 
> 
> Don't worry, I was in a good mood writing this, but yeah I need more pick-me-ups in the coming days. I hope your December is doing better than mine!


	9. Noise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!! Back now yay
> 
> Sorry, meant to upload this earlier, but I got distracted by RWBY Volume 7. Might actually continue to be distracted, but the updates for this fic should still be regular enough! 
> 
> Cheers!

Lily was out of her depth much more frequently than others would guess, but usually she was free to be cold and cross enough to buy time. Recently, however, she’d had to stay calm to keep on top of everything, so she felt that she should not be blamed for this outburst. 

_“Bombarda!”_ she yelled at her dresser, making a note to purchase a new one for Tom. The spell hit a leg, and the desk collapsed. She sent five more at the pile of wood. 

Lily took a deep breath, Vanished the mess, and turned back to Remus. She was glad they planned to meet in her room for this. Separation from Harry was _ not _doing wonders for her patience, especially with his recent injury and Dumbledore’s apparent foolishness in selecting his staff. 

_ Breathe, and deal with it later. _She scowled. Harry was supposed to be her top priority and everything else seemed insistent on delaying her motherhood.

“Lily,” Remus sighed. “Of course it wasn’t going to be as easy as we thought.”

“I’m sorry.” She calmed down enough to feel guilty for destroying Tom’s belongings. “Oh dear. I’m sorry for that.”

Remus quirked his mouth. “As if Tom wouldn't cheerfully replace it and add five to spare, all for you. Now may I continue?”

She nodded, and sat down. 

“Well, as I expected, no one really thought I was worth the time. All the Aurors were out, everyone else is tense because of Sirius, and so no one wanted to talk about him with a suspicious, shabby wizard like me, even if I were a Hogwarts professor. I went to the Wizengamot Administration Services as a last shot, but they said I needed a higher-up, probably Bones herself if I wanted anything to do with Sirius’ case.”

“Bones?” Lily asked, a vague memory stirring. 

“Amelia Bones, current head of the DMLE,” he confirmed. “Older sister of that kid back in the war. The overexcited one.”

“We were all kids,” she reminded him. Eyebrows furrowing, she tried to recall the name of the brother. “Edgar, wasn’t it? Sirius took a liking to him, I remember.” He was from a pureblood family, with the proud aristocratic features so prominent among that group. However, Edgar wore a giddy laugh that softened his face - Lily remembered, even if she had only met him once at an Order hideout. He had excited eyes and a constant spring in his step.

_ I didn’t know whether to be glad he was taking the war in stride, or shake him until he promises to take things seriously. _

“Did he die?” 

Remus grimaced, and nodded. Lily closed her eyes briefly.

“Will that make Amelia Bones more or less likely to help us?” she asked after the moment of silence.

“Word is, she’s the ideal politician. Unbiased and firm with her principles, plus a formidable witch. Dumbledore spoke highly of her when we were discussing the NEWTs. However, with a very personal case like this…” Her companion shrugged miserably. 

Lily summoned her parchment and quill. “Well, she seems to be our best chance at the moment.”

* * *

Harry didn’t visit Malfoy again the whole week he was gone. Apparently, Madam Pomfrey had taken one look at him the morning after the injury and saw that the blond was only putting on a brave face over grievous suffering. 

This was Parkinson’s very loud announcement that breakfast. Snippets of Malfoy’s alleged various wounds and pains came the following meals, causing outright barbs and sneaked hexes between the Gryffindors and the Slytherins. 

Even if Parkinson’s word was as good as the Whomping Willow’s, Harry couldn’t help but worry. Whenever he reached for his Cloak though, he would recall Malfoy’s expression the night of their agreement. It wasn’t angry, exactly, but it was obvious he thought Harry had gravely wronged him. And Harry didn’t understand why. 

_ It wasn’t very nice to disturb him in defense of someone who caused his pain, _ he thought, followed by, _ Hagrid didn’t do it directly! _

He didn’t even know _ why _he had reached out for Malfoy’s help at all. Ron and Hermione, maybe a few other people, would have been enough to help him figure out how to help Buckbeak and Hagrid. 

He was so confused, and so he stayed away.

Furthermore, his Housemates had taken to guarding him from the snakes that blamed Harry for the hippogriff going berserk. While Harry considered the accusation to have a grain of truth, _ maybe_, he appreciated the obvious care of his peers. 

Well, most of the time. 

“Do you think this was what your tea leaves were warning you about?” Lavender asked him worriedly one dinner. 

Parvati gasped beside her, as Hermione rolled her eyes. “Really!” 

Ron, on the other hand, whipped his head up. “Harry, mate, what if the Slytherins do something? They can _ try,_ but no one really knows about the Grim--”

“For the last time, Ron, I haven’t seen the Grim around.”

“Not yet, Potter,” Parkinson spat as she passed their table. The twins held Ron back from launching over his eggs.

Harry pushed his plate away and buried his face in his arms. Another annoying thing was that by now, the whole school had heard of the prediction of Harry’s death. Of course the Slytherins didn’t hold back about it, especially with Malfoy’s condition.

_ Actually, maybe that’s part of why the others are always on guard around me. They reckon I’m more likely to keel over now. _His mouth felt bitter at the thought. 

The only reprieve to this mess was the constant stream of Lily’s letters, enveloping him in a warm, fuzzy feeling every night. Her words were the only thing keeping him together.

Harry was startled to discover that Snape apparently _ had _friends, and one of them used to be his mother. At first he thought it must have been a joke, but that was quickly swept away as he read on further.

She was being vague, but Harry didn’t mind, since she immediately admitted it that she’d rather talk about it in person. Also, he didn’t really want either of them to spend more words on his Potions professor than necessary. 

Although it had thrown him off further when she said Snape had been _ kind _to her in their childhood. 

Harry really couldn’t wrap his head around that, recalling Snape’s obvious loathing towards Harry and his unfailing barbs against his father. _ Surely Mum would know about how he hates Dad? Or did Snape fake it in front of her? _

_ That’s probably why they stopped being friends. _The idea satisfied Harry for now. 

“Come on, we’ll be late for Potions!” Hermione called. 

“_Double _Potions,” Ron groaned. “At least we have a free period after.”

* * *

  
  


Draco entered the Potions classroom just as the second period started. Just as he planned, his entrance was perfectly timed to the usual lull between two periods, which was beneficial in two ways. 

First, Severus wouldn’t be in the middle of a lecture, and would be more likely be pleased to see him. As pleased as he could be, at least, and a marginally less grumpy Severus meant marginally more things Draco could get away with. 

Secondly, it would ensure that green — _all _eyes were on his return.

As expected, Pansy did not disappoint, and immediately gave a joyous “Draco!”, further cementing the attention. 

Draco schooled a somber expression. “Hello.”

“Does it still hurt much, Draco?” she simpered. 

Honestly, he wasn’t sure if the random throbbing in his head were simply phantom pains, but no one had to know.

“Yeah,” he replied, affecting what he hoped was a pained grimace as he touched the bandage above his left ear. It annoyed him when he had to wear it after the wound reopened — surprise, surprise, wounds from hippogriff talons weren’t simple to heal — but at least he managed to get something out of it. As Pansy fawned, the rest of his House shot glares at the Gryffindor side of the room. Draco slid his eyes over to Potter —

Potter, who _ wasn’t looking. _

Severus was telling them to settle down, but Draco was still stood there like a bloody imbecile looking at messy black hair bent down over the prep table, studiously ignoring him — _as if Potter even knew what to do with those ingredients _— while Weasel muttered into his ear.

Pansy was hissing at an affronted Blaise to leave their table so that Draco would have space. Draco ignored her, slinging his bag further up his arm, and walked further into the classroom where Potter stood. 

Draco set up his cauldron there, a scowl deepening the longer Potter refused to look at him. 

Weasley, in turn, was doing nothing _ but _ glare at him. “Piss off, Malfoy,” he snapped. 

“Or what?” Draco drawled, lazily eyeing Severus and raising an eyebrow.

“It’s alright, Ron. No harm in him staying.”

Draco sniffed. Of course only conflict with his friends would make Potter acknowledge him. “I see you’re still alive, Potter.”

“What’s that supposed to mean, you slimy —” Weasley was cut off by Severus approaching their table at the outburst. 

“Weasley, is there a reason you are disrupting my class?”

Draco turned to the professor. “Sir, I was just asking Weasley to help cut my roots, because I still can’t trust my hands to remain steady.”

“Weasley, cut up Malfoy’s roots for him. Further unnecessary noise will be detention for you.” With that, Severus continued his rounds. Weasley turned an entertaining shade of red, darkening further when Draco handed him his daisy roots with a sweet smile. 

Less than a minute later, he got his roots back all mutilated and completely unfit for use. He complained to Severus, Severus happily made them switch, Weasley glared and lost. Simple formula. It was almost unbelievable that he even tried to get one over Draco.

He turned to the rest of his ingredients, narrowing his eyes. He may have exaggerated the tremors, but his hands really did shake randomly from time to time. That’s why he wasn’t able to write to Father yet, although the mediwitch Pomfrey had already sent a note.

The caterpillars would be easy enough to square, but the Shrivelfigs would be too hard for him to maneuver with precision. 

“Do you want me to skin that?” Potter murmured, making him jump a bit. 

“Excuse me?”

“I’ll skin that,” Potter decided, grabbing one before Draco could react.

He tried to get it back. “This isn’t day one, Potter, you can’t swindle me —”

Potter sighed, skinning the ingredient surprisingly faster than Draco would have normally. He tossed it back without much force. “Shut up, this is still just wanting to help. You’ll get your contract. Now hand me the next one.”

Taken aback, Draco just looked at him blankly until Potter sighed once more and did as he pleased. Weasley looked like he wanted to be sick as he looked between them. 

To Draco’s dismay, he went around Potter to loom over him. “Okay, what did you do to Harry?”

Draco scoffed and gestured to his bandage. “Shouldn’t the question be, what did Potty do to me?” He ignored Potter’s flinch. “Now please stop stinking up my personal space, Weasel. Believe me, only Potter appreciates that.”

“I’m going to give you a real injury, you son of a —” 

“Ron!” 

Draco reached for his wand. “Son of a what, Weasley? Want to prove me right about the manners _ your _ degenerate mother taught you?”

Weasley lunged, and Draco raised his wand with a sneer. However, Potter slid between the two of them…

Facing Weasley. 

“Ron, that’s enough!” Potter whispered, seeming not to care about the wand still poking at his back. Draco took a step back in surprise, as the whispers around them began. 

“He started it, Harry! Why are you suddenly defending that bastard?”

“Ron, seriously, shut up before you get into —”

A shadow fell over their table. 

“What,” Severus said slowly. “Is the meaning of this, Mr. Potter, Weasley?”

“Malfoy’s the one with the wand out,” Finnegan protested from the back. 

“Finnegan, speak out of turn again, and you will double the amount of points I’m about to take from your House. Weasley, Potter, Malfoy, explain.” 

Weasley looked like he was about to burst from the amount of blood in his face as he glared at Draco. Potter looked between the two, uncertainty evident. 

“Weasley has been threatening me for no reason, Professor,” Draco explained coldly, pocketing his wand to hide the slight tremor. “When he approached me aggressively after I asked him to step back, I instinctively took out my wand.”

“Twenty points from Gryffindor for threatening another student, Weasley,” Severus sneered. “As well as a month’s worth of the detention I already warned you about. I expect you every evening at seven beginning tonight.”

“_T__wenty points —_”

“That’s another twenty points from Gryffindor. Would you like the detention as well, Finnegan? No? Well, continue on then, unless someone else wants to demonstrate how Gryffindors cannot comprehend simple instructions. Weasley, move to Longbottom’s table, and do not try to approach Mr. Malfoy again.”

The room was silent for a while, other than Weasley stomping away with his things. 

After staring expectantly at the class until they continued their work, Severus turned to Draco. “Ten points from Slytherin for pointing your wand at another student without permission, Malfoy,” he said with an eyebrow raised, as if saying _ I expected better from you, Draco, such as not getting caught. _

“Sorry, Professor,” Draco replied. _ For disrupting your class, not for defending myself. _

Severus nodded and left with his cloak billowing behind him.

“Huh, so he does take points from his House,” Potter commented casually, though when Draco turned, his shoulders were tensed up and his brow betrayed distress.

“So Gryffindors can take point deductions with grace,” he retorted. “Or is that another Saint Potter special?”

Unexpectedly, Potter just shrugged. “Ron deserved it this time,” he admitted, reaching for a dead rat on Draco’s part of the table.

_Did he just —? That’s… something to process. _Huffing, Draco asked, “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Helping you, remember? And no, before you say anything, no price for this one either.”

Draco watched with suspicion as Potter sliced the corpse open, deftly extracting the spleen. 

“Is all this because you’re inept at Potions and don’t actually know what to do next?”

Potter laughed in surprise, flashing his green eyes directly at Draco. A jolt when through his stomach at the warmth.

_ It’s irritation! I’m irritated! He’s laughing at me and it’s irritating! _

Even though his plans for this morning were for Potter to look at him, Draco was the one who had to look away now that it finally happened, face burning. 

_ In IRRITATION, _he reminded himself.

He kept his eyes on his work, not even needing to look at the instructions. Potter’s palm blocked the view, holding out a half-squeezed leech. 

He looked up, not hiding his distaste. “Well, it’d be a waste, since we need so little for the potion,” Potter explained.

“Again, I don’t need any help, Potter.”

Amused green eyes flickered down to his ear. “You really ought to make up your mind about that, y’know. Now, do you want it or not?” 

Despite himself, Draco accepted, noticing the clean cut and lack of squished bits. He looked at all the ingredients Potter prepared. Neatly skinned Shrivelfigs, flawless rat spleen, perfectly even caterpillar slices and now this. 

“You do know how to prepare the ingredients,” he said, a question in his voice. “I mean. For someone with woeful Potions abilities. It’s convenient for me, is all. Not a compliment. Might hire you one day, if you’re lucky.”

Potter gave a wry smile. “Potions isn’t the only use for knife work. I’ve had practice.”

When Draco took a pointed step away, he backtracked quickly. “I meant with cooking, you prat!”

That piqued Draco’s curiosity. “Cooking?”

“Yeah, you know. Food. To eat.”

Draco never really thought about where his food comes from, he just ate what he liked and left what he didn’t. “Don’t you have house-elves?”

Potter’s stirring faltered, and Draco remembered the house-elf Father said he laid off the previous year. “Muggle relatives.”

“Muggles always cook their own food?” Makes sense, Draco supposed, if they weren’t as civilized as wizarding society. “Not that I’m interested! It just surprises me that our Saviour doesn’t have servants tripping over to feed him. Do your relatives allow you to cook for yourself? Although just because you can prep, doesn’t mean you can cook anything decent, considering your potions. Is that why you’re so scrawny?”

Draco knew immediately that he’d said something wrong when any friendliness left Potter’s face. There was no hostility, as he might have expected, merely a blank expression.

“For someone who can mix a perfect potion, I’m sure you can’t cook to save your life,” he replied, focusing on his cauldron. He did throw a second of a grin in Draco’s direction, so the latter knew the reaction wasn’t entirely because of him.

“That does not follow,” Draco argued easily, even if in his head he was already planning out how to gain more information regarding Potter’s relatives. “I can easily make a potion that will save my life without needing to do menial jobs.” 

“And even if I can’t,” he added snarkily. “I’ll just pray that you’re around to save the day.”

Potter opened his mouth to retort, when Thomas cleared his voice from beside them. 

“Er, Seamus wanted to borrow your scales, Harry,” he said, shifting uncomfortably. He nodded at Draco, too.

“Why didn’t Seamus come get it himself?” 

“Well…” Dean glanced at Draco once more. Harry followed his gaze then looked back at the Irish boy who was resolutely not looking in their direction. 

“Tell Finnegan I can see the scales below his table from here,” Draco cheerfully informed him. “Now go away, this is a private conversation.”

Potter confirmed the location of said scales, then looked at Thomas for an answer. 

Thomas shrugged, though he had the decency to look a little embarrassed. “I’m just the messenger.”

Massaging his temple, Potter sighed. “Go finish your potion, Dean.”

“Cheers,” the fellow Gryffindor agreed. “Oh yeah, did you hear? There’s a Prophet special about Sirius Black. Probably another sighting.”

“Where?” Potter asked sharply. His back was suddenly straight, alert, Draco noted in interest.

“Dunno, I just heard from Parvati. She’s dying for class to end so she can get a copy.”

When Thomas left, Draco immediately reminded Potter that he was still there. “Planning to hunt him down yourself, Potter?”

“None of your business,” Potter said, lost in thought. 

On the contrary, it _ was _his business. That deranged criminal was Mother’s estranged cousin, therefore he was a danger to their family. 

_ That _wasn’t Potter’s business. Draco had personal investment in this, but he knew Potter had infinitely more.

“I’m surprised you haven’t done anything about it. Isn’t that your whole thing? Defeating evil madmen?”

“The situation isn’t like that at all,” he muttered, probably without meaning to. Draco’s eyes narrowed.

“What does that mean? Aren’t you announcing your retirement rather early?” The Aurors have long since proven themselves utterly incompetent, but maybe Potter's name could pull some strings. “Scared to risk your neck now of all times?” 

Potter wasn’t angry, why wasn’t he angry? The git was calmly packing away his ingredients. “If he caused the death of _ my _parents, I’d not even be in school right now. I’d be out seeking revenge.” 

And it was true. If Potter wasn’t going to do anything, Draco would still try to kill any experienced murderer that harmed a hair on his mother’s head, even if he had to go without Potter’s bloody unlimited luck.

“I would too,” was the quiet reply, making Draco even more confused. “I don’t know why you’re trying to goad me right now, why it matters to you, but I understand your point. I’d get revenge, too.”

“Some of us are invested in personal safety.”

“Hmm. Well, you don’t have to worry about that with Black.” 

“Are you _ mad_?”

“Shush,” Potter said when Severus started berating Longbottom’s work, poisoning his toad, blah blah, the usual. 

“Potter_, _ I _demand _ an explanation!”

He had the audacity to click his tongue, shrugging Draco off as class was dismissed. “It’s confidential. Not even Ron and Hermione know... It might be all cleared up in that Prophet special anyway.”

Draco had no reason to be convinced by that. “_P__otter —_” 

Potter put his hand on Draco’s shoulder, the one opposite his injury, effectively shutting him up.

“Look, you’re all safe.” _ Warm. The hand was warm. _ “At least from Sirius.” _ How can something be this warm through two layers of clothing? Potter, doing the impossible yet again. Prat._

“Maybe he’s not as bad as people think he is,” Potter was saying, green eyes earnest. Honestly, Draco didn’t care about what they were talking about right now. He lost his ability to process. How could he, with Potter cocking his head slightly to see Draco’s injury better, _ hand still on his shoulder? _

“And you know what?”

Instinctively recognizing a signal to respond, Draco, to his utter humiliation, stuttered. “W-what?”

Thankfully, Potter, dense as a brick as per usual, didn’t seem to notice. Draco almost recovered, when —

“I think I was wrong about you, too,” Potter said, with a smile that Draco’s never seen from him before. Not the carefree ones he had with his friends, this was smaller, quiet. Green released silver as Potter turned to leave. 

“Don’t let that stop you from being a git sometimes, though!” he called over his shoulder. As if he had the ability to be cheeky or something.

Fuck.

_ Fuck. _

Forget Sirius Black, Draco was going to _ murder Potter. _

And then himself, he decided, face flaming so much that he must look like a Gryffindor mascot. 

_ Fuck, indeed. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoiler: Harry has no idea what he's doing lmao. 
> 
> Past, current, and future feedback is much appreciated! 
> 
> Next chapter (which is actually supposed to be part of this one, but I elected to split, hence its shortness) will take the focus off Harry and Draco for a bit. A napoleones to anyone who guesses the characters it will focus on, and an extra banana shake to anyone who can guess who's coming in to add a little spice to our character dynamics.
> 
> (Psst... for RWBY viewers out there, heads up for a fair game fic I couldn't help but write)


	10. News

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me: asks questions at the end of last chapter to encourage engagement
> 
> also me: almost immediately uploads the chapter that holds the answers anyway
> 
> Cheers!

**Daily Prophet Special Edition:**

**SIRIUS BLACK, INNOCENT AFTER ALL?**

_ Early this morning, the Wizengamot had an emergency hearing as confidential evidence surfaced regarding Black’s case. As we all know, Sirius Black was imprisoned for twelve years for the murder of… _

_ ...“You can’t even say he was charged,” Remus Lupin, Hogwarts professor, says. “Not if there was no trial in the first place. No one questioned it at the time, of course, not even me.” Lupin admits to being a close friend of Black during their Hogwarts days, alongside war hero James Potter and Peter Pettigrew, one of Black’s alleged victims. He recalls… _

_ … Madam Amelia Bones, current Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement (DMLE), says that new investigation is ongoing. “The evidence given is strong, however. If it does turn out that Black was innocent all along, then the Ministry has committed a grievous, unforgivable error.” _

_ When asked if this meant all other cases from the aftermath of the war might be reopened, she says, “Not all, if any. The war made lots of complications, and I reluctantly agree that it was more efficient to lock up obvious criminals be done with it. We’ll have to rethink the entire situation, of course. The first problem in this particular case is that Sirius Black, whether Death Eater or not, did not bear a Dark Mark, which by itself should have allowed him a trial.” _

_ “The DMLE will cease pursuing Sirius Black until a trial date has been decided. His presence and testimony will be much needed. If he has access to the papers, we implore that he turns himself in. I swear on my honor, and the memory of my brother Edgar Bones, that this will not be a repeat of twelve years ago.” _

_ However, if Black fails to show the day before the trial, Aurors will be sent once more to take him in “with as much care as any innocent citizen of wizarding England.” Further details.... _

_ ...Bartemius Crouch, Head of the DMLE during the First Wizarding War and responsible for many of convictions afterwards, including Sirius Black’s, stated, “I was never dishonest about my methods. I got evidence, I sent the criminals to where they belong. They called me ruthless, but the other side was even more so. I have no regrets.” _

_ According to our Ministry insider, Crouch was unofficially demoted to his current position as Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation due to his straightforwardly brutal practices that “while popular during the war, had no place in a time of peace”... _

_ ...“They think I have the best chance of getting Sirius to come, even though he should have no reason to trust me more than anyone else,” Lupin says. “But I have to try, if it means giving him another chance at the life he deserves.” _

_ “I may have failed at being his friend, but I hope that he believes that he has many allies here. Even more where we made our best memories. It’s become dreary, but it waits for him, even if it takes every day of the months this time.”..._

* * *

Sirius reread the paper once he realized what it was saying. The content had explained why it was everywhere in the town he snuck into, making it easy to steal one.

The man was in charge right now because for all his warning, the dog kept wagging its tail happily at the small picture of Remus in the second page. The emotional neutrality he relied on was gone for good.

Pack, the dog said simply.

_ It could be a trap_, he snapped at it. _ Remember traps? _

The dog whined and pawed at the ground. Then it perked up. 

Smell wolf first? it asked excitedly. They could easily check for traps, then smell the wolf _ properly. _

_ We couldn’t smell the traitor last time_, the man reminded him, ignoring that last part. 

The dog in turn reminded him that last time, they couldn’t smell anything beyond fear and death.

_ Death. _James. Lily.

“He has many allies here” says the paper ⎼ wolf, the dog interjected ⎼ but who was left to aid him? 

Dumbledore, perhaps. He couldn’t think of anyone else.

In any case, there was no reason for him to trust anyone at all. It was telling that the word of Bones, the head of the group pursuing him, was least suspicious right now.

Wolf is coming back, the dog insisted. To play again in creaky house.

_ Not really in the mood to play. _

Never in the mood to play anymore, the dog complained. Wolf will play.

Sirius registered that with something he vaguely recognized as amusement. _ I really doubt that _ . _ Now let me think. _

He had to go about this logically. 

The sure thing was there was no way he was turning himself in before reaching Hogwarts and achieving his goal. He was already nearing the castle, he’d probably be there in a day or so if the Aurors were truly off his trail. That left the Dementors, who still shouldn’t be able to detect the dog. 

He was too close to turn back now.

Besides, any amnesty that he may be given would be retracted once he actually committed the crime he was imprisoned for. So, no Aurors.

If Remus wanted to meet him in the Shrieking Shack, he could easily do that, see what he wanted, then move on to the traitor. 

Wolf will help with the hunt! 

_ Please shut up. _ But then he thought about it, _ really _thought about it, and this might be twisted, but it sounded kind of… fun. Something James would approve of, even if it was against someone who used to be a friend. He’d certainly approve of Sirius and Remus working together again… If Remus were truly on his side this time.

For the first time, the thought of James pushed rather than paralyzed him.

Of course the dog was quiet now that he was considering letting the wolf in on the plan, if only for the memory of his dearest friend. Sirius could feel its excitement thrumming.

He looked at the sky. The full moon was too close, however, so he’d have to wait it out. 

Wolf!

_ Enough. _ They had to be vigilant. Remus _ might _help, but he also might betray them. No point in approaching him at his strongest. He’d reach Hogwarts, scout the area. Maybe see Harry. After the full moon, he’d go to the Shrieking Shack.

He had camped for long enough. Dropping the newspaper, he gave the reins back to the dog.

It ran faster and with more enthusiasm than it ever had before.

* * *

_ Dearest Harry, _

_ Sirius has yet to show himself to Remus. I hear the castle is abuzz with the news, but I’m glad that not many think to crowd you about it. It will be such a relief for all of us, I think, once Sirius’ name is finally cleared. _

_ I know you must be very busy with classes, but do check in with Remus when you have time, please? He’s getting more and more haggard every time I see him. I’ve told him we won’t be meeting again unless it’s for an incredibly important reason, or until he gets a full-night’s sleep. Remind him to drink three cups of... _

_ ... I’m not upset with Hermione, sweetheart, but it’s okay if you are. I remember when my friend from Ravenclaw… _

_ Dear Mum, _

_ Remus seemed glad to see me, and said he would take your advice, but I don’t really believe that bit, because… _

_ … Mum, do you think all Slytherins are evil? Ron isn’t really speaking to me right now because he says they’re the enemy, and I’ve been trying to see if that’s really true about all of them. Although I guess it’s true that most Dark Wizards are from there… _

_ Sweetheart, _

_ I think it’s quite wise of you to recognize that House doesn’t necessarily define a person, but many unfortunately do think of it that way. Your father, though he did grow up eventually, was one of those people… _

_ … trust yourself, to a certain extent. I had to teach many people to judge me based on my actions and not my blood, even ones outside Slytherin House. Remember that Peter Pettigrew was from Gryffindor, and it was he who... _

_ … I’ve been meaning to ask, would you know how to contact your friend Dobby? I would like to offer him some employment. All of the plans for the properties are mostly finalized, and as promised, our cottage in Ottery St. Catchpole will be ready by… _

* * *

_ Draco,_

_ When I read your letter, I had to check it for enchantments to ensure you were the actual sender. I admit I do not quite understand why you request a boon to be awarded to that careless lout rather than the harsh punishment he deserves. I have spoken to your mother, yet she seems equally vexed. _

_ Yes, I have read your reasons about redeeming my name in front of the governors, upstaging the fool Dumbledore, et cetera. In fact, you almost had me convinced. _

_ I hope that whatever you are withholding leads to the most beneficial outcome for you, Draco. You are young and impulsive, but I am electing to give you my trust on this matter. _

_ I will see what I can do about what you ask for. _

_ L. _ _ Malfoy _

_ P.S. Your mother sends her love, and a request for you to write her more often. Refrain from worrying us so, my son. _

* * *

_ Malfoy, _

_ Since you’ve been avoiding me, I just decided to write. Would you know how to contact Dobby, your old house-elf? _

_ H. P. _

_ Malfoy, _

_ I need your help ASAP. Please let me know if you can give it. _

_ H.P. _

_ Malfoy, _

_ Consider it another favour? _

_ H.P. _

_ Potter, _

_I tire of your your incessant pestering. Why would I know how to summon a house-elf not under our employ? It’s probably more loyal to you now, why don’t you yell its name into the void like the idiot you are? _

_ I’ve written my father about the gameskeeper. It’s out of my hands now, so leave me alone. Your owl is just as uncontrollable as you are! _

_D. Malfoy _

_ Malfoy, _

_ Dobby’s a he, though I suppose I’m surprised you remember him at all. _

_ And.... thank you very much for Hagrid. I really appreciate that you actually did it. Is philanthropy an acceptable pure-blood profession? _

_ What’s got you all sour, then? I thought we had a good thing going last week, and you haven’t even collected your favour. I’d happily comply with that contract you were talking about. _

_ H.P. _

_P.S. Hedwig really likes those Wowl Treats, if you’ve got them. _

* * *

_ Malfoy, _

_ The shouting into the void like an idiot thing worked. Turns out he was here in Hogwarts all along. Thank you. _

_See you around, _

_ Harry Potter _

_ P.S. Hedwig didn’t immediately complain about food when she got back, which she only does after eating Wowl Treats, so… thanks. _

* * *

Remus was aware of Severus’ suspicion.

To be fair, everyone was watching him at the moment. It was... new and unsettling, to say the least. When the _ Prophet _special came out, he was immediately flocked by students and teachers alike.

The hardest to ignore were Professor McGonagall's demands for answers, but he managed to wiggle his way out for now. Strangely, the Headmaster had not sent for him. Although even if he had, Remus didn't think he'd be as upfront as he usually was with the elder. 

Sirius had to be protected at all costs, and it was better not to take any chances at this point. That, and Remus wasn't ready to clarify Albus' role in the imprisonment of his friend in the first place.

The students, on the other hand, tried to trick him into talking. Some tried to give him treats during office hours, and he refused with a smile, sending them away disappointed.

The Weasley twins, in particular, only got more creative with each failure, often ambushing him ⎼ in classrooms, the Great Hall, even in the corridors at odd times. Remus, amused, slipped by them easily enough. Just because he no longer had the Marauder's Map did not mean he didn't remember the castle's secrets. Although in the few years, he expected that the twins would give him a run for his money.

_Sirius would probably like them a lot._

Severus and his snide glances were a bit more accusatory and obvious. Unavoidable, however, since Remus needed him and his Wolfsbane. 

“Still loyal to your friend, I see,” he sneered once or twice. “I did warn Albus…”

“On the contrary, I might not have been loyal enough,” he said simply, pushing aside the bait. There were more important things than petty antagonism. 

Things like going to the Shrieking Shack every night, to see if Sirius had finally come. He understood that this was draining him both physically and mentally. He had to be extra careful not to be followed, which meant going much later, way after curfew.

The lack of sleep had been showing during the day, and admittedly seeped into his lessons. More than a few students had asked about his well-being with concern, although he would like to think he was still keeping up his duties quite well.

He also knew that Lily disapproved. Harry visited his office often, at first because of her, but eventually because Remus was “the best DADA professor we’ve ever had”. That boy...

His mother might disapprove of a few days (or weeks, or months, or years, it didn’t matter, he would _still_ wait) of weakness, of straining himself a little, but she shouldn't disapprove of him aiming to reunite her son with his godfather. 

So Remus went every single night. Occasionally, at his loneliest, he even slept there. A few sets of clothes and some toiletries had trickled in. The night before the first full moon of the school year, he added a stock of food and some Wolfsbane.

The transformation came, and went. He's had so many in his life that he was... not used to it, but resigned enough. That night, he found that it was so much easier when his mind had a burning focus elsewhere. Unfortunately, he still woke up with a few scratches and bruises he didn’t mean to give himself.

The sound of footsteps made the old floorboards creak, and he forgot about any pain very quickly. He got something to cover himself up, grabbed his wand, and waited. 

A spell was whispered, and Lily appeared in front of him, a hand on her hip.

“I knew it,” she hissed, pushing past him to drop a basket on a broken table. She took out a loaf of bread, and held it out in front of him. “Eat.”

Chagrined, not only by her disapproval but also by his own deep, private disappointment at her appearance, he ate. 

“You _already _knew,” he tried. 

She gave him an unimpressed look that made him reach for the jug she brought, just so he’d have an excuse to look away. He couldn’t hold back the ensuing hiss of pain at the movement.

Lily sighed, and tied her hair up quickly. “I also _knew _that it was the full moon, and that you should have given yourself a few nights' rest beforehand.” She brought out a salve from the bottom of the basket. 

“This should help with the pain, if not the wounds,” she said, more gently. “Can’t let Madam Pomfrey get suspicious when you report to her.”

“I don’t really need —”

“I said _ when, _Remus.” He fell silent, and she carefully applied the salve on his bruises. 

“Look at your face, Moony, I’ve never seen you so sick and tired.”

_ You weren’t there when the war ended, _he thought uncharitably, then immediately felt hot shame. “I have to wait for him, Lily,” he replied instead, looking at her eyes, trying to convey his desperation.

Lily cupped his face, understanding yet sad. “I know, but there is not need to kill yourself over it. He will come, Moony, trust him.”

“What if he doesn’t trust _me_?! What if he comes and no one’s here and he thinks I’ve betrayed him again?”

She fell silent, thoughtful as she returned to his treatment. A reply never came. _Because she wouldn't have left him to the Dementors in the first place, _was his miserable thought.

* * *

The dog entered the shack. 

Wolf! it cried. It wanted to bound into the main room, to immediately find Remus, but Sirius was less inclined to haste.

The memories of the place tried to bog him down, and for a while, he allowed it to. Four boys, who knew too much and too little, racing out the door he just entered.

After the run, the pretend hunts, the games, they would come back here. To rest for a bit, to wait for Moony to come back to himself. To treat any wounds, and to calm their friend down. Prongs would assure Moony that he hadn't hurt anyone before making the guilty teen eat. Sirius would be the first to make him laugh again. 

That was so long ago. 

Sirius meant to wait, to check the situation, and maybe see if he could enter the castle. But once he reached Hogsmeade, once he accepted that he _would_ meet Remus in the space that used to be theirs, the Shack pulled at him. He tried to resist, but once the full moon had fully set to make way for the early morning sun, he was a weak man.

So here he was. 

There were still traces of the wolf. Some fur caught in broken wood, and a lingering familiar scent. This made the dog giddy, but made Sirius hesitate. Not because he was afraid of his friend's furrier form... 

But it was different now. They were not pack, no matter how much the dog insisted. Not anymore.

He stared at the corner, where the scent was leading him.

_Just get it over with, _he scolded himself. 

So he turned the corner.

The memories were heavier here, assaulting his senses. But it was dream-like, trying to fool him. Instead of blankets and extra clothes strewn about, a thick layer of dust covered everything. Instead of his three best friends smiling at him, it was just Remus, staring with trepidation.

“Si-Sirius?” the other said, stumbling forward, stilling immediately when the black dog backed away, growling.

For an eternity, they looked at each other.

Remus, very slowly, put his wand on the ground, then rolled it towards Sirius. He then raised both hands where they could be seen. “Sirius, I promise, I will not harm you.”

The dog believed him, but the dog was an idiot ignoring its senses, so Sirius transformed to take complete control. 

He could see his friend's nose flare, taking in his scent in turn, breathing heavily. Remus... looked very ill, chest bruised, ribs obvious, and face extremely pale. But his eyes were alive, bright and hopeful.

“Sirius…”

Sirius pointed the wand straight at him, then took a few steps forward. “You're saying I can trust you, eh?”

Remus nodded, exposing his neck in the most primal gestures of submission. “From now on, Sirius, I promise.”

The dog struggled inside, getting increasingly irritated with Sirius, who wasn't fooled in the slightest. He hated the sight, wanted to spit on it. Did Remus believe he was stupid? Out of his mind? 

_Of course he does, _he thought angrily. _But I am not yet stupid. _

Remus flinched at his expression. An emotion coursed through Sirius, slimy and disgusting, making him want to bathe, to scrub his skin open and scrape the feeling out. 

_Disappointment__, _his mind supplied. 

He wanted to laugh heartily, or cry, so he did both, wand trained on the other man all the while. "You know, Moony," he managed between chuckles, wiping the corners of his eyes with his free hand. Laughing at the unsure eyes looking at him. "I thought that with the way my life was going, I'd be beyond feeling disappointed at this point. You've proven me wrong, dear friend." He choked on air, feeling like he was grieving all over again.

The other man had the balls to look hurt as Sirius practically lost his marbles in front of him. “Sirius, I promise you can trust me. I will help you in every way, I —”

“Then _why_ do I smell someone else in this shack that I can’t see?!” he bellowed, preparing to cast a curse at any sudden movement.

Remus blinked. “Sirius, don’t worry, that’s just —”

_“Ëxpelliarmus! __Incarcerou__s!_” a voice yelled, startling them both.

_Huh_, Sirius thought, as he started growling and struggling against the ropes. No use, he was exhausted in every way and the way he landed on the floorboards winded him. He tried to think of an escape plan, but his cloudy mind wasn't cooperating. He was in denial, maybe. Or in shock.

Definitely in deep shit, but even he could appreciate the humour of the situation. Really, it was poetic or something, even if it was bloody inconvenient.

Who knew Snivellus had it in him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ;)
> 
> But for real though, getting feedback really helps a girl out. I will write out the fic regardless of engagement, but the hit is always nice y'know (don't do drugs) (expose your fantasies to the internet instead)


	11. The Howls of the Shackled, Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I mentioned RWBY last chapter and um, don't mention it back to me ever. I've not been able to focus on this, or anything else irl, because of the real trauma and emotional damage I got from a certain episode. I'm perfectly serious, so yeah, the updates here might be slower for a bit. Don't worry, I'm following an outline!
> 
> Thank you for understanding. Cheers to all who need it!

Lily had been overcome with joy to see her friend. Even though the aggression from both the dog and the man worried her a little, she was not surprised. It just strengthened her resolve that Sirius, and by extension Remus, had to be — _would_ be helped.

In her selfish heart, the bond sang, as if recognizing that the scene playing out in front of her meant that soon, her Harry would be her only important focus left.

She drank a potion before coming. Something to remove her natural scent — a concoction she found in Borgin and Burke’s. Based on the blackberry root she could smell in it, it would have unpleasant side effects if she drank too much. However, she thought it a sensible precaution for whenever she left her rooms, since Remus was immediately able to recognize and ambush her. There was no shortage of enemies who knew her scent from fighting her during the war. 

“Then why do I smell someone in this shack that I can’t see?” Sirius yelled. For a split second, she thought the potion failed, but she wouldn’t make such a simple mistake. Someone else was in the room. 

“_Expelliarmus! Incarcerous!_”

An old thought from the war scolded her. _ Damn it, Lily, react faster or you’re dead. _

Severus Snape then came into her line of view, wand pointed at Sirius. He looked older, meaner. There was no smile on his face, nor empathy. 

_ But he’s on our side, isn’t he? _

“The Headmaster would be oh so disappointed.”

“Severus,” Remus said, voice strained. He moved forward so that he was closer to Sirius than the other wizard was. “I’d like to remind you that the DMLE isn’t after him anymore. He’s not a wanted man, it is perfectly legal for him to walk free right now.”

Lily understood that her invisibility gave her an advantage if things were to get ugly. She already had her wand in her hand, and was being very careful to stay still as to not disturb the Disillusionment Charm. 

Also, a smaller part of her wanted to wait, and see what this older Severus would do. 

“You’re… not working together, then?” Sirius croaked, exhausted from struggling. 

“No, I’m afraid your little boyfriend had proven to be just as criminal as you, Black. Your happy ending will probably be the Kiss, if we’re extremely lucky.”

“Severus, enough. We both know that’s not where this is going. Give me my wand and let’s settle this rationally.”

Severus sneered, echoing the expression Lily knew from their school days. “As if I would ever trust a _ werewolf._”

“Funny you should remind me of my nature, Snape,” Remus snarled, stepping forward until the tip of the wand jabbed into his bare chest. “In fact, it was the full moon last night. Would you like to find out just how _ untrustworthy _ I can be, so soon after?”

Severus narrowed his eyes. “You can’t bluff your way out of this, Lupin. I know you don’t have a _ spine. _ Furthermore, _ I _ brew your Wolfsbane, I know what it’s for.”

Remus’s teeth gleamed, and even Sirius seemed to sense it, looking at the back of his friend’s head. “Exactly. I will rip you apart on my own terms if you continue threatening him.”

Severus moved, but Lily moved faster.

“That’s enough!” she said, catching Severus’ wand, as well as the one he took from Remus. 

“Funny,” she said to the three staring at her, two of those faces… taken aback, to say the least. “I would have thought that by now, you’d all have outgrown this rivalry.”

Remus, canines retracted, and much calmer now, reached out to take his wand from her. He used it to free Sirius, who only had eyes for Lily. 

Severus was the first of the two to move, stumbling forward. He reached for her, but stopped halfway, as if he was afraid she’d disappear. 

“Lily…” he breathed, and a younger part of her heart remembered the boy he used to be. 

“Especially you, Severus,” she said sternly. “Haven’t you read the papers?”

“Lily… H-how?”

She sighed. “It’s a long story, no time for it now. Now, are you going to continue causing problems for Sirius?”

Severus glanced at the other two, as if he’d forgotten they were there. Then, he pointed at Sirius. “Him! He’s the one that betrayed you, he’s the one that killed…”

“A misunderstanding.”

“He killed Muggles afterwards. He killed Pettigrew!”

“Another misunderstanding. Severus, do I have to Obliviate you or not?”

“No!” was the immediate cry. “No, don’t erase my memories… Lily… _ Lily…_” He reached for her again, the other hand clutching his chest as if something pained him. 

Lily understood. They were best friends, once, despite their differences. If the situations were reversed, perhaps she would be in the same state. 

“Maybe we can talk later, okay, Sev?” she said as placatingly as she could. “I just have a… prior engagement here.”

He continued staring at her reverently. “I will help you. Let me help!”

Lily looked back at Remus, who shook his head almost imperceptibly. She agreed with the sentiment. Despite his words, Severus was the dangerous one here. “You can help by keeping everything you’ve discovered here a secret,” she told Severus.

“No, I can’t — I can’t leave you with them! What if they hurt —”

“I’m quite capable, Severus, thank you. I’d really rather not cast the Memory Charm on you, but I will if I have to.” He remained silent for a while, a pained expression on his face. 

Eventually, he took a deep breath and composed himself. "No. No, you don’t have to. Lily, I will keep all your secrets. I… I swear on all that you wish.”

“Even if I asked for an Unbreakable Vow?”

“Anything, Lily. Anything.”

She took a deep breath. “Leave, Severus, and tell no one what happened here.” 

He hesitated, and for a moment looked like he would protest once more, but then he slumped his shoulders. “Is it really you, Lily?”

She smiled, rather sad despite herself. “You once told me something I never forgot,” she replied, keeping her wand trained on him. “Back when we were children… I asked if being Muggle-born mattered in this world.” He closed his eyes, and she knew that he also remembered.

“You said it didn’t make any difference.”

“Lily…” he whispered, looking at her imploringly.

“Go, Severus. Please.”

And after a beat of silence, he was gone.

* * *

Sirius felt like he was in a dream. 

His memories of the events in the Shrieking Shack were fuzzy at best, and apparently he lost consciousness. He was… alone, but not in the same way. 

The dog was silent, probably because he fully exhausted his mind and body to hold the connection. He didn’t know for sure, since he sometimes suspected that the dog was merely his madness made sentient. And so could all of the days that passed.

Maybe even Moo — Remus. Remus, who came in his room from time to time to keep him informed. Sirius wasn’t sure how much of the information stayed in his head. All he remembered was that he was in the home of Amelia Bones, the person who should be the first to drag him back to Azkaban.

This… illusion of comfort made him soft, and now he couldn’t even rise from the bed without falling over. Weak. Pathetic. _ Won’t be able to run. _

Remus was here tonight again, fussing over him. If Sirius squinted, he could see their Gryffindor dorm room, fellow Marauder fussing over him when he got ill. 

“Hello, Mother,” he croaked. It was likely the third or fourth word he’d spoken since he got here.

A frown. _ Annoyed? No… worried. _ “I hope not. A more appealing nurse, perhaps?” Remus quipped.

That made him chuckle a bit, but he didn’t know why. He ended with a coughing fit. 

Remus was at his side at once, taking the glass of water and moving it to his lips. “Drink, Sirius.”

He drank slowly. 

“What do you remember?”

“Does it matter?” he shot back, then settled back into his pillows. Talking was exhausting. Also, _ pillows. _“I dunno... if anything’s... real.”

Pursed lips. Deeper furrow. Even more worried? “I’m real.”

He managed a grin that probably didn’t look too friendly. “Sounds... like something…” He heaved with effort but he had to say it. “Someone who wasn’t real —”

“Sirius.”

He stuck his tongue out. 

Remus sighed. _ Annoyance, this time? _ “Do you remember where you are right now?”

“Bones,” he muttered, getting tired for a while, but then an idea popped up. “Ooh, is this some extrajudicial torturing and my mind has disconnected from my body?” He said the words so excitedly that he had to grab more water after trying to cough up his lungs. His stomach. Maybe the dog? _ Heh. _

Quiet. Then a muttered, “What did she put in those potions?”

He squinted up at the voice. “Drugged?” Most likely. The darkness was already coming back. 

“Medication,” was the reply after what seemed like an eternity. He didn’t know what they were talking about anymore. He was floating again, but his body stayed on the bed. 

There was some sort of movement around him. Then weight, and warmth. “Sleep now, Sirius,” a voice warbled. 

“Okay, James,” he whispered, as the darkness fell.

* * *

When Sirius awoke again, he had greater awareness. He sat up, gasping. Checked his surroundings for danger. There was no one in the room. He could see dust mites floating in the sunlight streaming through the windows. 

“Hello, Sirius,” a voice said. He tensed, ready to strike or retreat, but…

It was her. Or was it? Is he still in the dream? “Lily,” he murmured, feeling very broken. He wanted the dog, but it remained silent. His senses were dulled and it was _ agony. _

“Yes,” the maybe-Lily said, smiling Lily’s smile. “Would you like some water? Tea?”

He didn’t want to consume anything the dog couldn’t smell first, so he didn’t reply. He just looked at her. Her smile didn’t waver. 

_ Merlin, she looks the same as she did… _

“Oh Sirius,” she suddenly said, moving to his side. He tensed, shoulders curved inward, not knowing the cause of the alarm. Nothing seemed to be out of place.

She raised her hand very slowly, and he just watched. This one had Lily’s green eyes, and now they glistened. 

She touched his cheek as if it were made of glass, and he realised he was crying.

“Have I died?” he asked her, lifting his hand to cover hers. 

Maybe-Lily shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut as she did so. She moved so that she was cradling his face with both hands. “No, Sirius. But I lived.”

_ Doesn’t make sense. No. _“I think,” he replied carefully, because even if this was a vision, he didn’t want to upset Lily. “I might have died, actually.”

“Padfoot,” she said, making his breath hitch. “No, Padfoot. We’re both alive.”

He waited for the punchline, but there was nothing but her eyes waiting for him to believe her.

His tears began to stream continuously now, as he grasped her shoulders. “Is this true? Is this true, Lily, I —” His voice broke. “If this is some sick joke, I will break. I swear I will — I won’t be able to take this. I promised — _ I promised James I wouldn’t break._”

She was weeping as well, if the sounds were anything to go by. He couldn’t see anything through the fog, except _ James and Lily _ — dead bodies, corpses. No life left in them. _ James’ glasses crushed on the ground. _ “No, no no no, I promised _ James, _ I _ promised, _not yet —”

“Padfoot,” she said softly. She was smiling but she was sad why would she smile, if she really was Lily, how could she smile in a world without —

“James!” He stood up at once, bringing her with him. “If you’re alive, if you’re back, is James — is he here? _ Answer me!_” he yelled, shaking her. “Lily, where’s Prongs?”

Cheeks wet, she shook her head, not even trying to get out of his grip. “Padfoot. Padfoot, he’s gone. Truly.”

“How do you know? How do you know, you were dead too and now you’re here! If anyone — if anyone can get back from the dead, it’d be Prongs. That… that rascal,” he sobbed. “He’d be here!”

Lily hugged him as his body wracked with grief. “Padfoot, I — I don’t know how, but I didn’t die,” she whispered. “James did. I heard him be killed. And Voldemort would never have reached me and Harry if… if he was there.”

“No,” he moaned, but he was weakening, leaning into her warmth. “No no no no no…” It was cruel, _ evil _to give him this last slice of hope before whisking it away. 

Lily was making soothing sounds, a hand rubbing his back. Another tremor shook through his body as he remembered his guilt... Lily lost James, too.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, Lily.” He gasped for air he didn’t deserve. “It was my fault, that whole nightmare was _ my fault _ I’m sorry, you trusted me, _ James _ trusted me, I messed it all up Lily I’m so sorry —” He pulled out of the hug and knelt before her, holding unto her leg like a lifeline. “Forgive me, Lily, _ please, _I didn’t mean to —”

Lily tried to pull him up. “Oh Padfoot, I don’t blame you, it _ wasn’t your fault. _Come, get up, darling…”

“I messed up, I didn’t mean to, I didn’t mean to! I thought I had it all right but I was too cocky, I didn’t deserve —” He wanted to vomit something more than words, something, anything to make her, to make _ James _ forgive him. “I didn’t _ deserve your friendship, and your trust, and _—”

Lily moved away a bit, and he held unto her more firmly, desperate. She didn’t leave, however, and tipped his face up. “Padfoot, please drink this,” she said. Obediently he opened his mouth for the flask and a mildly sweet potion flowed down.

After, he felt like he could breathe again. And perhaps deserve to. 

“Calming Draught,” Lily explained, setting the flask back on the bedside table. “Do you think you can stand up now?”

Numbly, he lifted his aching knees and allowed him to be returned to the bed. “I’m sorry,” he told her quietly, pushing himself up against the headboard. 

She shushed him. “You have as much right to grieve as I do.”

He didn’t believe her, but he could appreciate the sentiment. 

“We’ll have all the time in the world to talk,” she said, tightly holding his hand with both of her own. “But it’s urgent that we clear your name first. I’ve already presented my testimony to the Wizengamot, with the help of Amelia. This is her house.” He nodded. “They already know that Peter was the actual —”

“Peter!” he said, eyes wide. He tried to get past her, but both the draught and her resistance stopped him. “Peter’s at Hogwarts, Lily, he’s right _ there_, he might get Harry!”

Lily’s expression didn’t change except for a twitch of an eyebrow. His heart dropped, thinking she didn’t believe him, but she leaned forward. “How?”

“His rat form, one of the students has him as a pet — one of the Weasley children, the Daily Prophet —” He stopped, realizing that she probably knew the public truth. “I didn’t kill him —”

She nodded, and took out her wand. Soon, a silvery doe emerged from the tip, and she spoke to it. “Remus Lupin,” she said clearly. “Peter Pettigrew is at Hogwarts, he’s in his rat form pretending to be one of the Weasley children’s pets. Make sure he can’t escape. I’ll inform Amelia. Watch over Harry.” 

The doe disappeared, and Lily turned back to him, smiling again. “We were going to call you in for the trial,” she said. He involuntarily flinched at the idea, and she patted his shoulder. “But that won’t be possible with your health right now. Would you be amenable to giving your memories?”

Immediately, he nodded. Anything to help her, to get justice. 

“I,” he began, then plucked up his courage to continue. “I wanted to kill him. Peter. That’s why I was in Hogwarts.” He couldn’t look at her after the confession, incredibly ashamed of the man he had become. “I still do, really. But I won’t get in the way of the… legal proceedings!”

“Padfoot, look at me.” When he did, she had the serious face back on, and he braced himself for a scolding. 

“Don’t you think I feel the same way?”

He looked up, and saw in her bright, green eyes that she was telling the truth. “You do,” he replied. 

She quirked her lips, and Sirius felt a sense of camaraderie that he hadn’t thought he’d ever feel again. “I want him quartered, I want to rip his head off and lay it down on the ashes of our home. I want him to suffer, and realize that the biggest threat to him was never Voldemort,” she said, a faraway look in her eyes.

Then she turned to grin back at him. “But I won’t, and neither will you. Do you know why?”

Sirius waited.

“Because James wouldn’t want us to,” she reminded him cheerfully. “And we’re no use to Harry if we’re both in jail.”

* * *

“Have you heard? The Black trial’s today!”

“You reckon he’s innocent?”

“A _ lot _of witnesses, mate, Dad says —”

“My gran says Lucius Malfoy’s behind this, since his wife’s a Black! He’s got the —”

_ If only Father were doing something so interesting, _Draco thought, stirring his porridge glumly. Perhaps before, he would have taken stock into those rumours, spread them himself, maybe, while writing home to ask if they were true. 

However, he already deduced the situation from Potter’s words that Potions class. And from the way the speccy git looked very pleased at everything these days. Probably helped that the Weaslette might as well be his third arm. 

Not that Draco was paying attention.

“Malfoy, I said _ pass the peas_,” Blaise said with extreme annoyance. 

“You’re a wizard, aren’t you?” he retorted, though he did reach for the bowl and push it into Blaise’s chest.

“Blaise, you _ know _ Draco’s been injured —”

Draco groaned. _ That _narrative had gotten old very quickly. “Pansy, I’m fine —”

“I suppose if you call his fancying a certain someone an injury —”

“Theo!” Draco snapped at his laughing House mate. “What the bloody hell are you talking about?”

“Tut, tut, language. You don’t think the entire Hall notices you staring at Weasley all day?”

Draco felt bile rise into his throat, while Pansy screamed profanities at Theo. 

“Theodore, if you’re saying I fancy Potter’s bootlicker, I’m going to have to —”

Theo rolled his eyes, and lazily blocked Pansy’s hexes. “I meant the _ girl _Weasley,” he clarified, looking back at the Gryffindor table. “Though I suppose they’re all trying to get into Potter’s pants.”

Draco felt his face burn. “That’s just as bad!”

“That would be the day,” Blaise cut in with a mocking grin. “Draco Malfoy stooping so low as to breed a herd of gingers.”

“It’s a surprise _ your _mother hasn’t bred a herd of ponces like you, Zabini, considering —”

Blaise took out his wand. “Don’t you talk about my mother, Parkinson, or I swear —”

“Pansy, knock it —”

“That’s _ enough_!” their Prefect demanded, and they all immediately became quiet. Theo and Blaise looked away immediately, as if they weren’t part of the conversation at all.

Only Pansy remained hostile. “They were accusing Draco of —”

“Shut up, I am _ not _ explaining to Weasley - the Head Boy, if I have to clarify - why the Slytherin third years started cursing each other, especially if it’s about which of his siblings they want to fuck.” At the scandalized reactions, she rolled her eyes. “I’m not talking to Snape either, he’s being erratic lately and _ won’t be pleased _with whoever makes me dock points.”

The third years remained silent after that, although Pansy kept glaring at Theo, who fluttered his eyelids at her. Draco and Blaise sighed at the same time, then shot horrified looks at each other at the coincidence.

Draco was very careful not to look in Potter’s direction for the rest of the meal, though later, when they were walking to class and he was laughing at Theo’s ‘erratic Snape’ impression, he snuck a glance. 

He quickly turned away when he saw that Potter was looking, too.

Which turned out to be a mistake, since Potter managed to approach and tap on his shoulder. “May I borrow you for a sec, Malfoy?”

“What, so you can incapacitate him again?” Pansy practically growled. 

Blaise snorted, and left the group like the bastard he was.

Potter pointedly kept his gaze on Draco. 

“Sure, Potter, take him for Potions again, as well,” Theo said. “Little heart to heart, man to man, eh?”

Potter looked at the other boy weirdly, then turned back to Draco, who was trying to figure out if Nott would be more disagreeable with spiders or beetles in his mattress. “So is that good with you?”

“No!” Pansy exclaimed, making Draco fight a grimace. She was lovely, and useful, but really… 

“It’s alright, Pans,” he said, winking at her. “It’s good Potter knows his academic superiors.”

He then walked away as fast as he could. 

“One of them is my best friend, you know,” Potter said, easily catching up. 

“What.”

“My academic superiors.”

Draco huffed, and entered the dungeon, grumpily setting up.

“Now what do you want?” he asked when they both finished. “I thought I made it clear I wanted nothing to do with you.”

Potter scratched his head. “Er, how the tables have turned?”

“Are you _ trying _to get hexed, Potter?”

“No, uh,” was the intelligent start. “Hagrid’s been given a chance to study. In Romania.”

Draco crossed his arms. “And? I’m sending my regrets to your celebration, so sorry, I’ll be busy doing something significantly more important.”

He quickly made a list of witty answers to the expected question, but all Potter said was “Thank you so much. It meant a lot.” in a stupid soft voice that sent stupid flutters into Draco’s stomach and Merlin, who talks like that? Nobody else would hear them in this crowded classroom if Potter spoke in a normal volume like a normal person.

“Well, don’t forget your monthly offerings to my shrine, then.”

Potter laughed, and Draco hated him even more. “That’s the thing! You haven’t given me your contract or anything!”

“Consider it my reward that you remember this blessing for the rest of your days,” he said, not sure if he was jesting. 

“Hm, spread the word of your grace, and all?”

“No!” he snapped. “I don’t need to be associated with that oaf, ever.” Then he caught an opening, and said, “That’s why I don’t want your filthy favour. It’ll stain my reputation.”

Potter didn’t look like he believed him.

_ Honestly, just make him prance in the corridors with thirteen feet long hair, or something! Or spread that he has a silly tattoo of Weasley and Granger. Or I could make him carry my things for me, but he has to levitate and _ juggle _ them while walking. _

Well, yes, Draco had thought very hard about the possibilities of his ‘reward’, but after Potter… made contact, it was _ obvious _that he was severely allergic to the Gryffindor. He was only protecting his interests, namely his functioning respiratory organs. 

“Hm,” was all Potter said as the class began. 

And Draco was _ glad _ that Potter dropped it. 

He certainly wasn’t disappointed.

Not even a little. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been SO excited for that Sirius and Lily scene, and even more so that it's finally here!
> 
> May 2020 addition: It's come to my attention that some people have gotten confused with how mild Lily is with Snape here. Here's the thing: she has NO idea Snape had anything to do with the prophecy. She just sadly vaguely knows that he was on the opposite side and presently she's told that he converted. He is not a current threat. (Correct me if I'm wrong but even in canon it wouldn't necessarily be known to her before she died.)
> 
> Therefore be assured that she's only calm here bc to her, she has much bigger priorities (Sirius, etc). It's not out of fondness (though she does get nostalgic), but out of a "I'm too busy with bigger shit to deal with this right now". 
> 
> I don't think it's a spoiler to say that when she DOES find out about how directly involved Snape was in the events that led to that Halloween night........ she WILL give what is due. Hope that clears it up!


	12. Papers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a shortie (I think?) but I hope you don't mind too much!
> 
> Cheers!

In the Gryffindor common room, Harry bent over a piece of parchment. He was using his DADA textbook as a flat surface, the scratching of his quill the accompaniment of his focus. He jumped when Hermione sat beside him, looking pleasantly surprised. 

“I’m glad to see you finally taking our school work seriously, Harry,” she commended, bringing out her own batch. 

Harry winced. “Er, yeah,” he lied, slipping the parchment into the pages. He wasn’t exactly doing homework, but she didn’t have to know that. “Just finished, actually.”

“Good! If you need help —”

“I’m fine, Hermione. Thanks.”

As they sat in silence, Harry felt awkward enough to actually read through the pages Professor Lupin assigned them. He was already a bit familiar with the topics, considering he liked visiting the professor during free periods, and the latter had all sorts of creatures in his office to give the students “hands-on experience”. It was all rather brilliant, especially in comparison to Quirrel and Lockhart. 

These days, though, Professor Lupin was gone more often than not. He was kind enough to warn Harry in time, and Lily’s letters helped with the rest. 

..._Your godfather’s condition is very concerning_, she had written. _But normal, considering what he had gone through all these years. I believe in his tenacity to recover once everything is settled…_

“Harry, I wanted to ask…” Hermione said hesitantly. Harry noticed that her many books were out of her bag, but appeared untouched. “Are you still cross with me about McGonagall?”

He shifted a bit. “Why would you think that?”

She bit her lip. “Well, we’ve never really talked about it afterwards. And lately, you seem… distant. Even from Ron.”

The truth of the matter was that Harry wasn’t cross, exactly. Hermione made a mistake, but one that didn’t turn into a mess, so he had gotten over the irritation quickly enough. Yet her past actions didn’t warm him up to the idea of sharing more information with her. 

“Ron’s been huffy about my spending time with Malfoy,” Harry told her, putting his book down. “Even though I hardly do, we just paired up in Potions twice. It’s not like we’re friends or anything.”

“Yet,” she added.

He blanched, feeling ashamed all of a sudden. He could justify things to Ron, but Malfoy had treated Hermione like dirt, and probably still thought of her that way. 

She gave him a small smile, however. “I do trust you, Harry, even if I worry. I admit I can’t imagine Malfoy as anything but a pompous bigot, but I _ was _ there when Hagrid told us the news about his opportunities in Romania.”

“How do you know that he’s involved?” Harry asked, wondering if this counted as sharing when Malfoy asked him not to. 

“Mr. Malfoy got Hagrid sent to Azkaban last year because of a rumour,” she replied matter-of-factly. “I don’t think he’d back down and stay quiet when his precious son was actually hurt, unless Malfoy did something about that. I mean, I usually wouldn’t assume that, considering he’s the worst sort of git....” She shrugged. “But it lines up with why you’re suddenly alright with him, don’t you think? He's not blackmailing you, is he? You do seem too calm for that.”

“No, he's not... How do you have time to think about all that? You have so much to do and you often rush on without us just to get to all your classes.” Harry teased, but inside he was inordinately pleased that Hermione wasn’t outright trying to stop him from communicating with the Slytherin, nor was she accusing him of betraying their House.

“Time management,” she said dismissively. 

He rolled his eyes a little, but felt warmer in her company now than when she first sat down. “I’m not angry with you,” he told her with complete honesty. “But it sucked, you know, and I _was_ angry for a bit…”

Hermione hugged him. “I’m glad you aren't anymore. I _am_ really sorry, Harry. I apologized to Mrs. Potter, as well.”

The twinge he often felt when Hermione mentioned his mother made itself known, but he ignored it in favour of grinning at his friend. “Yeah, she did say that. Did you get to read her birthday present yet?”

“Oh yes, though I haven’t finished it yet with all the homework I have. But I'm absolutely in love, Harry, I didn’t even _know_ there was an established Muggleborn author scene, the possibilities are fascinating…”

Harry let her talk about it good-naturedly, though only kept half a mind in the one-sided conversation. 

“Sirius Black’s trial is today,” he said when she paused, suddenly burning with the wish to express what he knew. She was still one of his best friends. 

She nodded. “It’s a completely horrid situation, if it’s true that he was innocent all along. Apparently there wasn’t even a trial for him twelve years ago ”

He paused, surveying the common room for possible eavesdroppers, and considered his options. “He _is _innocent,” he finally said in a low voice. “He was my dad’s best mate.”

“Then why —” Comprehension lit up Hermione’s eyes, quick as ever. “Mrs. Potter’s the one that demanded his case be studied, isn’t she?” At his nod, her eyes watered. “Oh dear, now I feel even worse about my slip-up…”

Harry wrapped an arm around her and squeezed lightly. “It’s alright, Hermione, no harm done. Mum feels confident they’ll be setting things straight, anyway.”

He spent the rest of their free period cheering her up by discussing the classes they had in common. Surprisingly, he didn’t die of boredom, though Hermione’s currently more mellow, less obsessive mood helped a lot with that.

At the back of his mind, he wished his godfather luck, and hoped that his mum and Professor Lupin were enough to support him.

* * *

“And how do we know that young Weasley’s pet is actually Mr. Pettigrew and not any other common garden rat?”

Lily sighed inwardly, though she maintained a serene smile for the benefit of the many eyes on her. “I’m sure the accomplished and excellent Aurors under Madam Bones know the spell to turn an Animagus back into their human form.”

The trial had been going on for an hour — and that was after the whole Wizengamot had already been privy to Sirius’ memories. Her heart hurt during the process, seeing Sirius’ worst night exposed to strangers. Although anger eventually won out as some of the _esteemed_ members of the jury insisted on unnecessary delays. 

The last three useless questions came from the Undersecretary to the Minister, Dolores Umbridge, who was an overly-smug, self-righteous woman. Lily saw no possible acquaintanceship with her in any future.

“Yes, yes, of course our Aurors are quite capable,” Minister Fudge said. He was overseeing the hearing since, as expected, Dumbledore wasn’t found impartial to the case. Lily had requested that he be called to the stand as well, considering his own contribution to Sirius’ imprisonment, but apparently his status was enough to allow him to refuse. 

“I think, ladies and gentlemen, that the most _pressing_ issue is the innocence of Sirius Black,” Amelia, a real blessing, announced from Fudge’s left. “We have ample evidence that he was wrongfully imprisoned, and that the actual perpetrator of the murder of twelve Muggles back on the 31st of October,1981 is _still_ at large. Professor Remus Lupin of Hogwarts has already given us the lock and the key. Our time is best spent restraining Peter Pettigrew before he catches wind of our intentions, rather than arguing about things my Aurors can _certainly_ deal with on the spot.”

The Umbridge woman sneered in her direction, while Lily exerted much effort to withhold a smirk. 

“Yes, of course. Indeed,” Fudge said, rearranging the papers in front of him that Lily doubted contained anything of importance. “Let’s put it to a vote for officiality’s sake, then. Those in favour of clearing Sirius Orion Black of any and all charges he obtained in the year 1981, therefore allowing him to walk freely with all the rights of an innocent wizard from hereon, please raise your wands.”

All of the cloaked individuals with the Wizengamot crest moved to agree, as expected. Even if prejudiced or against Sirius for any reason, the wizard who went against the very obvious and straightforward evidence was a stupid one. Though Lily anticipated a little displeasure from some of them in the future.

Once everyone was dismissed, Lily left the room quickly, accompanied by Remus. 

He put a hand on the small of her back to guide her. She smiled up at him, and could tell how relieved he was.

“You never really did trust that it would work out smoothly, did you?” she whispered teasingly.

Remus grinned. “Well, as usual, you’ve proven me wrong and put my nerves to rest.”

They exchanged mild smiles. The real, heartfelt celebration would happen later, in the privacy of Amelia’s home, once they were with Sirius.

Lily may not be surprised by the turn of events, but she was still unequivocally happy, and looking forward to aid in her friend's complete recovery.

Amelia approached them, an appreciated shield against the many, many Ministry workers shocked to see Lily Potter in the flesh.

“Are you sure about going out in public so soon after?” Amelia asked her seriously. Remus tensing his hand indicated that he wondered the same. 

Lily patted Remus’ arm, and nodded at Amelia. “I’m sure.”

“There’s already a horde of media outside the front entrance of the Ministry. If you’d like, I can have you escorted discreetly for now, so that you can rest.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Lily chuckled, though she did throw a questioning glance at Remus, who she knew would vastly prefer to use the Floo. “Remus, why don’t you go ahead and tell Sirius the good news?”

He did look eager to agree, but he still furrowed his eyebrows. “Are you certain?”

“Yes, dear, run along. This way the reporters will focus entirely on me and forget about bothering Sirius.”

“Quite an understatement, Mrs. Potter,” Amelia commented, waving an Auror over to escort Remus to her office.

Lily kissed his cheek. “Send Sirius my love.” He squeezed her shoulder, and left. 

Amelia walked with her through the Atrium, giving stern glances to scare off those who looked like they might interrupt. “Mr. Black is fortunate that you take such good care of his image, even right after the positive outcome of his hearing. His innocence will merely be a footnote under the headlines of your return, and therefore assure his privacy.”

Lily took a deep breath as they approached the doors. “Sirius is a dear, dear friend... though I have to admit my intentions aren’t entirely selfless.”

At her companion’s questioning glance, she laughed. “Once I step through those doors, dear Amelia, I’ll be free to support and protect my son however I wish. And nothing is more important to me than Harry.”

* * *

“Hermione, control your damn cat! Professor Lupin already said not to move him around and let him sleep as much as he wanted —”

“Crookshanks can’t help it, it’s in his nature!”

“You shouldn’t have a pet if you can’t guarantee that it won’t kill all the others around it!”

“Now, Ronald, I don’t like what —”

“I don’t like the fact that your mangy beast barged in here, and just started terrorizing —”

“Don't be dramatic, Ron —”

“Just make it stick to those disgusting spiders it brings in here —”

“Crookshanks is just proud of those —”

“Proud of what? Being a little menace?”

“Aren’t you being a little harsh —?”

“Harsh? _ Harsh?_ Scabbers is _ ill_, and that thing isn’t helpi—”

“‘That _ thing_’ is my companion—”

Harry sighed, covering his ears as he gave up on what he was writing. He would do it up in their room, but Seamus and some other Gryffindors were setting off firecrackers in there.

“Noisy, aren’t they?” Ginny commented, sitting beside him and offering a sweet. 

He declined, but managed to give her a strained grin. “Like cats and rats,” he agreed, making her giggle. 

“What are you working on?” she asked, glancing at his things. “You’ve been awfully focused.”

Folding up the parchment and sliding it between the ones for his essays, he lifted one shoulder in what he hoped was a casual manner. “Just trying to catch up with homework.”

“All this talk of Sirius Black is distracting, isn’t it, Harry?”

He hummed noncommittally, watching Ron and Hermione practically rip their hair out in an effort not to reach for the other's. It seemed he wasn’t going to get to work on his list today, at least not here. “I’m probably better off in the library until dinner.”

“Oh! Want some company?”

“Thanks, Gin, but it’s all really boring Divination stuff —”

“I love Divination! Lavender’s been telling me all about it and I can’t wait until next year.”

“...and Potions homework. Lots of it. You know how Snape loathes me, I’ll probably be in a bad mood the whole time. Won't be good company.” 

Actually, Snape was being weird lately and outright ignored Harry’s presence in his classes, which suited the Gryffindor just fine. If anything, it vastly improved Harry's mood regarding the subject. 

“Oh okay. Good luck then!”

He smiled at her, and made his way out after gathering his things. 

The library had a few occupants, some students hanging out before dinner, some Ravenclaw study groups. Harry went to a vacant corner hidden by the tall shelves, and plopped himself onto a chair.

After he’d set up his inkwell, he took out the parchment he’d been working on for a while. Soon enough, he was engrossed and forgot to mind his surroundings. 

“Boo,” Malfoy’s voice said from right behind him, making him startle and snap his quill.

Harry turned around to see a wicked grin directed at him. “Damn it, Malfoy, are you trying to kill me?”

Malfoy laughed. “Have been since we met, Potter, but I’m glad you finally noticed.”

“What are you doing here?” Harry asked tersely, hoping that Malfoy wouldn’t look at what he had been working on. 

No such luck. “Just wondering why our dear Saviour is hiding in the corner of the library. After all, everyone knows he can’t read.”

“I wear glasses!”

“Obviously just for show,” Malfoy dismissed, placing his books on the table, trying to peek at Harry’s scribbles. “What are you doing, Potter? Something illegal? More illicit dragon contracts?”

“No, I’m just writing something, now buzz off.”

Malfoy placed a hand on his hip, sniffing disdainfully. “I see how this is. You can disturb me at any time you fancy, yet I have to seek an audience with dear Saint Potter. Dear me, how his head grows.”

Irritation flared. “What will it take for you to stop calling me stuff like that?”

“Show me what you’re hiding.”

“What? No.”

“What is it, then? Are you cheating? A little birdie said you were getting better in Transfiguration, so that must be it.”

“Malfoy.”

“Perhaps,” Malfoy said, energy leaving his eyes a bit. “A love letter? Someone finally caught the eye of our esteemed hero?”

Harry sighed, rubbing his forehead. “Look, I’ll show you, but only when it’s finished.”

Malfoy looked at him for a while, scrutinizing. Then he shrugged, “I suppose patience _is_ a virtue, and I am a man of many.”

Harry snorted, then made the mistake of immediately relaxing. That’s when Malfoy quickly reached for the piece of parchment and held it out of Harry’s reach.

“Malfoy!”

“Aha, do not underestimate my reflexes, Potter — you aren’t the only Seeker around.” With a wide smile, Draco started reading what was written, batting away Harry’s attempts to take it back.

“_Suggestions of Tasks Suitably Plebeian_…” He narrowed his eyes. “_Yet Hopefully Entertaining to His Highness, Draco Malfoy, Gracious Philanthropist and Bestower of Blessings to all Humanity_…?”

He looked up at Harry, who felt like his head should be melting now from how aflame it was. 

“Potter, what the fuck?”

Harry took the parchment back, and Malfoy let him. “I told you, it’s not finished. Probably never will be now, you git.”

“...That doesn’t answer my question at all.”

The Gryffindor sighed, and sat back down. “It's supposed to be for the favour you refused to get,” he muttered sulkily. “For Hagrid.”

“I thought I told you to drop that.”

“Well yeah, but that didn’t feel right, so I decided to make my own list of suggestions instead.”

Malfoy raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms. “And the… _creative_ title?”

Harry looked anywhere but Malfoy. The embarrassment was starting to turn into irritation. “I thought it was funny, okay, and now that I've come to my senses, it’s just stupid. Well, you got what you wanted, I’m not going to bring this up again. Bye.” He began to gather his things, planning to walk out with a huff, and maybe hide in his dorm forever. 

“You didn’t even let me read any.”

Harry glanced back at Malfoy, who was looking at him rather strangely. “What?”

Malfoy turned to the side, waving a lazy hand in the direction of Harry’s bag. “Your suggestions. I only got around to the title.”

“Oh sod off, Malfoy,” he snapped, shoulders tense. “I’ve already realized how stupid it is, so I’m going to throw it out and you can laugh about it with all your friends.”

Malfoy tsked. “I didn’t laugh, though, did I?”

“What?”

He held out his hand, and Harry just stared at it, bewildered. 

“Come now, let me survey your attempts,” Malfoy drawled. “I doubt any of them are up to my standards, so I’ll have to guide you through your revision.”

More puzzled than displeased at this point, Harry allowed his aggression to fade away. “So you’ll actually ask me to do something now?”

“Hm. Perhaps if any of them entertaining enough for _ His Highness, Draco Malfoy, Gracious Philanthropist and Bestower of Blessings to _— ow, Potter, you brute!”

Harry tried to smack the other boy, but Malfoy _ was _ quick, sniggering and dodging, repeating the silly title and sticking his tongue out when Harry had to catch up with him. 

Madam Pince kicked them out of the library soon enough.

* * *

Harry cheerfully entered the Great Hall just a little after the start of dinner. He sat down beside Hermione, and felt his grin disappear at her obvious distress.

“What's wrong, Hermione? And where’s Ron?”

“Mr. Weasley came by with a few Aurors to speak with him earlier,” she whispered to him, worrying her lip. “Everyone in school’s been asking around for information, but no one seems to know what happened after they all went to Professor Dumbledore’s office.”

“Did Ron know why?”

She shook her head. “No. Well, you heard us fighting, but it got worse after you left. He thinks Crookshanks had eaten Scabbers. He’d found blood on his sheets, and he was shouting at me when Mr. Weasley arrived.”

Harry thought that through. “_Did_ Crookshanks eat him?”

“Of course not!” she replied with a glare. “But I do know how much Ron cared about Scabbers… anyway, that's not the problem right now, Harry!”

“I had to ask,” Harry apologised. “Do the twins know anything? Percy? Ginny?”

“No one in Gryffindor has seen them, so I assume that they were called, too.”

Harry looked up at the teacher’s table. Dumbledore, as expected, wasn’t present, but neither was the Gryffindor Head of House. Professor Lupin was also away, but Harry knew he was going to be with Sirius. The rest of the teachers were speaking to each other in hushed whispers. Snape in particular looked very antsy. 

_ What's going on? _

As if on cue, the flap of wings echoed in the Hall. The whole student body watched as Hedwig flew towards her owner, delivery attached to her foot. 

Harry heard whispers about how mail wasn’t usually allowed in the Hall at this time. He just reached for his post even before his owl managed to land.

“Thanks, girl,” he said, absentmindedly dropping a handful of nuts in front of her, ignoring her indignant squawk. 

There were two tied up pieces of mail. One seemed to be another Special Edition of the Prophet, and the other was a letter from Lily.

Suddenly, owls entered the Great Hall in multitudes, and in turn the murmurs turned into loud chatter. The owls were carrying rolls of newspapers to their owners as if it were time for the morning post. 

Students clamored and quickly opened the papers. There were gasps of shock, and chatter immediately intensified to chaos around Harry. 

He ignored all this, focusing on his mother’s words. 

_ Dearest Harry, _

_ I hope you don’t mind the short notice too much. I am very sorry for springing this on you. For safety purposes, Madam Bones cautioned me against sending mail before and right after your godfather’s trial. _

_ I’ll write more later, as I’m sure you have many questions. I'm glad to say that we have all the time in the world to speak freely now, sweetheart. I wish you are as happy as I am that I don’t have to hide anymore, and that we can finally be a proper family. _

_ I love you so much, Harry. _

People were shouting questions at Harry now, and some were even brave or tactless enough to approach him. He took no mind as he unrolled his copy of the Prophet and saw his mum smile at him softly from the front page. 

**Daily Prophet Special Edition:**

**LILY POTTER LIVES!**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ;D


	13. Inconveniences

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cheers to you all! Especially to those who need it!

Narcissa watched the furrow on Lucius’ brow deepen as he read the Prophet special edition. 

“What does this mean for us, Lucius?” she asked once he handed the papers to a house-elf and took a sip of his wine. 

“Nothing of note,” he replied, deep in thought. She quelled the bubble of irritation that told her to smack him. Instead she smoothed her skirts and gave a little sniff.

“Nothing? Lily Potter is alive, and could ruin us and everything you’ve worked so hard for. We’ve _ just _ managed to make everyone forget our involvement in the war!” Of course, the Galleons thrown in the right direction helped immensely, but it still came with years of effort. They were so _ close _ to securing Draco’s future, as well as that of their descendants.

“We weren’t ever convicted, Narcissa. There is no possible way Potter has proof that we weren’t Imperiused. There is no danger.”

“Five minutes ago, I would have said that there’s no possible way that Lily Potter lived. Take me _ seriously_, Lucius.”

At this, he turned from the window, and placed his hand over where hers rested on the smooth, cold pane. “I always do,” he murmured, putting his wine glass down. Another house-elf popped in and took it away. 

She adjusted her hand so that their palms touched. “My love, won’t her presence shake the status quo as we know it? As you’ve painstakingly _rebuilt _it? She’s already freed Sirius, which means she’s making people _listen_. She’s a martyr,” she reminded him with distaste. “A _hero_, with the Potter name and gold. She would be an influential member of society with little effort.”

Lucius put his other hand on her shoulder. “Cissa,” he said, squeezing gently. “It is… inconvenient, true, but we’ll manage to turn it to our advantage. When have I ever failed you and Draco?”

“Never.” She sighed and felt her jaw harden. “But when will all this simpering cease, Lucius? When will we regain the status and deference our families deserve? I don’t want Draco to grow up in a world where a _ Mudblood _has power.”

He stroked her cheek, although she kept stern, questioning eyes at him. She wasn’t just concerned for the Malfoy name, but also _ her _noble bloodline. With her cousin free, it won’t be long until he regains his inheritance, if he hasn’t already — and she was well aware of how he demeaned himself in the presence of a Potter. The thought of where he might invest the Black riches made her ill. 

“Would you like to join me in our endeavors?” Lucius asked with a knowing look. “Shall you come out of the Manor more often, then, Cissa? You were always better at burning bitches than I.”

The excited glint in his eyes pleased her greatly, but she shook her head. “Not while Draco is growing, Lucius, you know that. And I don’t want to leave the Manor unoccupied — the staff might get… _ ideas _again.” She sent him a pointed look.

He huffed, irritated at the reminder of the previous year’s mishap. “I suppose that Potter brat will become even more insufferable now.”

The thought worried her a little. “I should write Draco to mind his words for the foreseeable future. Just until we see where the knife swings.”

“I don’t think you have to worry about his words,” Lucius replied with some humour. “It seems that he’s practicing his own machinations in Hogwarts. Perhaps you should wait until he writes to us.” 

Narcissa leaned her head on his shoulder, and he wrapped an arm around her waist as they looked out into the lush and green Manor grounds. “I will always worry, Lucius.”

She wondered if this was the beginning of the storm she’d been afraid of. 

* * *

“Lupin!” 

Remus bristled, but kept walking. 

“Lupin, I am speaking to y—”

Abruptly, he stopped, Severus inelegantly bumping into him.

He turned to the other man by the front of his robes before he fell. “Bugger. Off,” he snarled, only then allowing Severus' annoying arse to meet the floor. 

“Ice Mice!” he growled at the gargoyle in front of the Headmaster’s office. He climbed the staircase, stopping at the closed door. He took a minute to get his breathing under control before rejoining the group inside.

“Did you find what you were searching for, Remus?” the Headmaster asked from his desk as soon as he opened the door. 

Remus had to take another deep breath. “No,” he said, bitterness and shame burning in his chest. “It wasn’t where we—I left it, and Mr. Filch was no help.”

“Don’t torture yourself, dear boy,” he was told. He dug his nails into his palms as a reminder not to lash out. “We already know he cannot leave the castle grounds. You’ve done wonderfully.”

One of the children in the room spoke up. “Dad, can we have—”

“—just a tiny clue on what’s going on?”

Remus turned to the twins, who were looking at the Ministry official that had introduced himself as Arthur Weasley. Beside them were the other three siblings in poofy armchairs Dumbledore had conjured. 

“Shut it, we don’t need to know,” Percy chided, but his eyes betrayed his curiosity. 

Mr. Weasley pinched the bridge of his nose. “Boys, are you absolutely sure you don’t know where Scabbers is?”

“Why do you keep asking that?” Ron asked, crossing his arms. As the interrogation-of-sorts progressed, his confusion had quickly manifested into irritation. “Hermione’s cat ate him, I’ve already told you!”

Ignoring the question, Arthur turned to Remus pleadingly. “And you’re certain this can’t possibly be the case?”

“We can’t be sure of _ anything _with Peter,” he responded. “This isn’t the first time he’s faked his death.”

“Albus, what are we going to tell the students? The other teachers?” Professor McGonagall stepped forward, turning to the Headmaster. “The school isn’t safe with a murderer on the loose.”

“Dinner should be about done,” Dumbledore said, stroking his beard thoughtfully. “Gather them into the Great Hall to sleep tonight. Inform the staff, ghosts and elves, and ask that they search the castle. Direct the prefects and the Head Girl to watch over the students. One professor in the Hall at all times.” He nodded at Percy. “Best you go with your Head of House, Mr. Weasley, and continue your duties.”

With only a little hesitation, the boy nodded and trailed after Professor McGonagall. She briefly rested a hand on Remus’ arm before leaving. 

“What about Mr. Potter?” Arthur asked Dumbledore. “Pettigrew might go after him.”

“I don’t think he’ll be left alone tonight even if he wished it,” Remus informed them, folding his arms over his chest. “Everyone was hounding him about his mother.” Of course, the Weasley children expressed only mild surprise. “Best not to worry him further.”

“Why would Scabbers go after Harry?” Ron demanded. “And who’s this Peter bloke? What’s he got to do with my rat?”

Sighing, Arthur Weasley bent down to finally explain to his son that his beloved pet was in fact a murderer in hiding. Ron’s pallor quickly became a sickly green, indicative of what was probably regret that he had asked so insistently. 

“I… All that time…” he whispered to himself, and Ginny rubbed his back with a pitying expression.

“He’s going to be difficult to find,” Remus said to no one in particular. He began to pace, mind racing and body itching to do _ something_. “He’s too good at self-preservation, that bastard.”

“Perhaps if I’d been informed earlier…” There was no accusation in the Headmaster’s tone, yet it still grated on Remus’ already-strained nerves. His guilt deepened. “No matter, my dear boy. There are only so many nooks and crannies in Hogwarts that he’d be familiar with.”

Remus didn’t reply. The twins were having a conversation through glances and eyebrow movements at the side, while Ron still looked horrified, despite his sister’s attempts at comfort.

“I think our students should join the others now,” he said, turning to Arthur. “Would that be alright?”

Arthur nodded helplessly. “Best I return to the Ministry, turn in what we know so far. The only reason I was sent here was because I’m Ron’s father.” He faced his children. “I’ll have to go home, too, and speak with your mother. She doesn’t know the details yet but I’m sure she’s worked herself up by now.”

“Yes, thank you, Arthur,” Dumbledore said, standing. “I too, must make an appearance before the students soon, but let me lead you to my Floo.”

The Weasley children said their farewells to their father, who hugged Ron especially tight. 

“We’ll go ahead, Headmaster.” Remus beckoned the students to follow him outside.

“It’s much more frightening than with Sirius Black,” Ginny said as they walked in the corridors. “Oh, I-I heard he was your friend, Professor, I’m sorry.”

“It’s quite alright, Miss Weasley. What matters is that he’s a free man once more. What did you mean?”

“Well, he’s an Animagus, for one thing. It’s easier for him to hide… And also, I don’t know if we’ll be able to react appropriately if _ we _see him.” She glanced at Ron with worry. “Scab—Mr. Pettigrew, I mean, was part of our family for as long as I can remember.”

The youngest brother shuddered. “He wasn’t part of our family, Gin. He was just _using_ us all that time.”

“But I know you liked him. Well, the rat.”

“Yeah,” he replied with a grimace. “But he was never really Scabbers, was he?”

Remus stopped, and clasped a hand over his shoulder, as well as Ginny’s. “No, he’s a liar and a murderer. His Animagus form represents him well.” Steeling himself, he tried to give them some reassurance. “I’m very impressed with how you’re taking this whole situation. Your levelheadedness in particular, Ron, is commendable, but I _ promise _that I, along with the Aurors and other professors, will do our utmost to prevent him from ever getting close to you again.” He nodded at the twins, including them as well.

“Professor,” one of them asked as they continued walking to the Hall. “How exactly does the spell you put on Pettigrew work?”

“It’s a simple variation of the Anti-Apparition spell, which a bit more restriction. He cannot leave Hogwarts in any manner until I cast the counter-spell.” It was his only option after receiving Lily’s Patronus. Legally, he couldn’t apprehend a criminal by himself, especially before the trial that would prove that Peter was one in the first place. Furthermore, he didn’t want the students to witness anything that would bother their day. Quietly apprehending Peter was the ideal solution, albeit a slow one.

_Liar_ _, you didn’t want unnecessary attention from the Ministry because of the wolf. Coward. _

The other twin cocked his head to the side. “No locator or tracking spell?”

“It’s not that easy to track an Animagus.” Otherwise, the Aurors would’ve been able to find Sirius eventually, without needed to know about the dog form at all. “Some theories suggest that the animal traits naturally cover up anything that might make them easier to hunt.”

They had reached the Great Hall by then, and he opened the doors for them. “Settle in with the other Gryffindors now.”

Ron immediately went to the bunch of students that surrounded... Harry? Yes, that was Percy scolding the crowd, and Harry waved at Remus with a wry grin. Ginny joined a group of younger Gryffindor girls nearby, who immediately started fussing over her. 

The twins lingered, uncharacteristic hesitation still on their faces. ‘So it’s impossible for a spell—”

“—or a potion… or an_ item _—”

“—to find an Animagus?”

Remus looked at them, observing their nervous demeanor.

_ Of course they’re worried. They’re only children despite their joking nature _ — _ they must be scared right now. _“Of course it’s possible,” he reassured them. “We will find him, and there are ways of speeding up the process.” Wistful, he thought of the map that he failed to find. “It would be infinitely more convenient if there was something that showed us who was on Hogwarts grounds at all times, and where.”

The two remained silent, of course not getting the jest. “Perhaps you two could come up with something someday,” he quipped, for these two were exceptional in application of magic that interested them and had no lack of wits or imagination. Virtues worthy of… of a new generation of Marauders, perhaps. 

He gestured to the Hall now filled with purple sleeping bags. “But not tonight. Don’t worry yourselves, and get some sleep.”

* * *

Even though Ron had been cross with him lately, Harry was still relieved to see him, especially since he immediately scared off the students who'd been harassing Harry all evening. 

Harry dragged his sleeping bag over to where his friend set his, and hesitated. Shoulders slumped, Ron nodded.

Harry noticed how tired he looked. “What happened, Ron?” he asked as Hermione lay her sleeping bag so that her head was near theirs.

“Ron, we’ve been so worried…” she whispered, looking to be near tears. “Why did they ask for you?”

With a pained expression, Ron lay down face first on his pillow. Harry exchanged a look with Hermione, and he patted his friend on the back. 

“Scabbers,” Ron muttered after he resurfaced. “Scabbers is a murderer.”

The other two exchanged an even more concerned look. 

“He was an Animagus all this time,” he explained, rubbing his face. “Apparently he’s a bloke called Peter Pettigrew.”

Harry froze. All this—all this time, he was so _ close _ to the person who might as well have murdered his paren—his _ dad. _He _petted _him.

A strong, indignant anger simmered in him. “But he’s dead now, right?”

“I don’t think the castle would be going through all this fuss if he were, Harry,” Hermione pointed out, as Ron explained why they were all in the Great Hall.

_ Mum didn’t tell me any of this. She said… she said she’d tell me everything she could. She promised! If she told me about this, I’d have known where Pettigrew was all this time, I could have _done something— 

“Mate.” Ron had grabbed his wrist. “You’re shaking.”

Blinking rapidly, Harry took off his glasses and wiped them with the bottom of his shirt. Exhaling, he was met with the concerned expressions of his friends. “Sorry.”

“No, Harry.” Ron rolled over, so that he was resting on his front and his elbows rubbed against Harry's. “I’m sorry. This is the bloke that should’ve been in prison instead of Black, right?”

Remembering that Ron didn’t really know most of the story, Harry opened his mouth in panic, but his friend put a hand over it. “You can tell me all about it later, when we aren’t surrounded by the entire school.” He sighed. “By the way, I’m glad your mum’s public now. You won’t have to hide whenever you write your letters anymore.”

Heart warm, Harry threw his arms around Ron. “Ron, I thought you were angry with me.”

“Yeah,” Ron said, awkwardly patting his back. “But _ you’re _not going to turn out to be a murderer hiding among us, right?”

Hermione smacked his head and then immediately wrapped her arms around them both. “I’m sorry about Scabbers, Ronald.”

“Me, too. But as always, you were right.”

“Yes, but—”

“Don’t worry about it. Worry that there’s a criminal on the loose and he’s wearing my pet’s face... Bloody hell, that’s a sentence I never expected to say.”

When he gave a big yawn, Harry pulled back. “Go to sleep, Ron. You look... really ill.”

“Oh!” Hermione reached for something behind her. She shoved a paper bag at Ron, who opened it. 

“You missed dinner, so Harry and I saved you some,” she explained. "It'll help you feel better."

For the first time since he came back, Ron gave a genuine grin and Harry felt something settle in his chest. “I almost forgot, yeah. Although you might want to hide it from Percy.”

Hermione looked around the dimly-lit room. “I think the prefects have given up on trying to get students to settle down.”

Harry had almost forgotten about the buzzing of the groups around them. Now that he was paying attention, it was quite loud, but the worst part was the _ staring. _

_ Although if it’s because of Mum, it’s worth it. _He tried to ignore the heartbroken part of him that recalled how Lily broke her promise.

Harry failed at ignoring it.

Later, when most of the chatter had quieted, and most of the student body fell asleep, Harry was still wide awake, mind racing. Beside him, Ron was snoring, and every once in a while Hermione’s curls tickled both their faces as she turned in her sleep.

Peter Pettigrew was here in the castle somewhere. The man who betrayed his parents. He absentmindedly rubbed his palm against his scar. 

_ Mum didn’t tell you for a reason. _

But was he just supposed to do nothing? Wait for this reason? For information that might not come?

He turned and looked at his friend. He'd love their company, but it might attract unwanted attention if he tried to wake them up.

_ If Mum didn’t tell me… then this might be my only chance. _

Professor Lupin. If anyone could find the criminal, it would be him. So all Harry had to do was find Professor Lupin, and no one could say that he was _ completely _looking for trouble. 

He curled his hand around the cloak hidden in his sleeping bag. 

_ I just want to see him. I want to know what he looks like. The man that my dad called a friend. The man that ruined my godfather’s life. _

Making sure no one was doing rounds near him, he pulled the fabric out.

_ He’s the reason why I only met my mum this past summer. He’s the reason why she had to hide even after that. _

After donning the cloak, he looked at Ron once more. In the darkness, he looked pale, and there was a crease on his forehead. 

_ He hurt one of my best friends. _

Sliding out of his sleeping bag, he stuffed the pillow inside so that it wasn’t flat. Standing up slowly, he almost cursed at the sight of the sleeping bags haphazardly arranged throughout the Great Hall. It would be hard to maneuver through his fellow students without bumping into anyone.

He tiptoed, stopping at particularly loud jumps he had to make. He almost fell over a pile of Hufflepuff sixth years at some point. 

Somehow, he managed to reach the clearing that led to the doors. Convenient timing too, because Snape was leaving the Hall. Harry held his breath and slipped through the crack before the heavy doors closed. 

He waited until Snape had turned a corner, and went the opposite direction. Hopefully Professor Lupin was this way.

* * *

Draco eventually tasted blood after gnawing on his lip after he saw Potter disappear from across the Great Hall. 

_ I can’t believe I’m even considering following that idiot. _

On one hand: the potential of getting Potter into trouble. He deserved it after getting Draco banned from the library for the next week. 

On the other hand: the injustice of Draco not owning a bloody Invisibility Cloak, which meant _ he _was more likely to get into trouble.

Back to the first hand: this was the first time he knew of that Potter went gallivanting without his pets. Interesting prospect, because of… reasons.

Yet: there was also the issue of whatever the hell put the school staff in such a tizzy. Sirius Black was innocent, Lily Potter was alive… but neither of those explain what was basically confinement. 

_ I bet Potter knows, _ a slithery voice said in his head. _ He might be in the mood to tell you, too, if you follow him._

Draco frowned. _ I can ask him whenever I want to. _

_ Of course, _ his thoughts laughed. _ But then won’t it be so much better if you found out _ before _ Granger and Weasley? _

“Well,” Draco whispered to himself. “Fuck.”

That was that, then.

Watching out for the prefects and Head students, he stood up, kept to the shadows and tried to make himself as small as possible while he walked. 

“Malfoy, is that you?” the Head Boy Weasley called in irritation, getting in his way. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Draco turned his nose up. “I’m going to the loo,” he sneered. “We already have to sleep on the floor like ruffians, are we not allowed any amenities at all?”

Head Boy Weasley narrowed his eyes. “I’ll be accompanying you, then.”

“No, you certainly will _not _be. I don’t know how _your _people do things, but that’s highly improper.” Exaggerating the affronted tone, Draco’s eyes looked for an escape. _ There. _ “And _unnecessary. _ Look, Professor Snape just left. I at least trust _ him _to protect me from what’s gotten you all so scared. Now leave me be.”

He swaggered away, hoping that Weasley had given up. When no one else approached, he slowed down his movements to lessen the chance of Severus actually still hanging about outside. 

He _really_ wasn’t keen on getting into trouble.

Once outside, he surveyed the wide, empty corridors with trepidation. The emptiness and the lit torches would make it easier for the staff to catch him where he wasn’t supposed to be. 

_ It’s fine, I can always go back and use the same excuse. Weasley might even vouch for me. _

He took a nervous breath… He usually didn’t do these things, at least not alone. 

_ If Potty can do it, so can you. _

Pressing his shaky hands against his sides, he took the first step.

_ Alright then._ He managed to keep walking. Good._ Now...To find Potter. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I won't lie, my depression visited with a lot of pomp, and it seems to want to stay for a while. That's me sadly warning y'all of irregular updates. This chapter, despite being planned and outlined ages ago, had to be wrestled out of me. I do hope this didn't affect the quality much!
> 
> Feedback through comments are appreciated like the little dopamine hits they are, hint hint <3


	14. The Howls of the Shackled, Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay wow this whole world crisis packs quite a punch, to say the least. Hope everyone's safe!
> 
> Other than that + mental health shenanigans, I've been adjusting the series outline a significant amount. So that's why I've been gone for two months rather just one, haha!
> 
> Thank you for all the sweet words of encouragement from before. Cheers <3
> 
> PS - I've added a note on the relevant chapter but I feel the need to reiterate: No one knows that Snape relayed the prophecy to Voldemort except (among our current cast) Snape, Dumbledore, Pettigrew, and maybe Lucius Malfoy. hMMM

It might have been slightly embarrassing, sniffing all over the place, but that was the least of Remus’ problems. He was hell-bent in finding that traitor. He was _so _close, and he refused to fail now. He wouldn’t fail Sirius this time. 

The determination was coupled with gratefulness for the Weasley twins who went out of their way to return the Marauder’s Map to him. They showed no indication that they knew him to be one of the makers, and Remus did nothing to enlighten them as they explained how to use it. He hid his impatience well, though the task grew difficult as the handwriting of four Gryffindors revealed themselves. After all, the memories incited were marred by the reason he needed the map in the first place.

Nonetheless, Remus had to be stern with them about sneaking out of bed. He refrained from docking points, merely scolding them for endangering themselves. They assured him that they’d return straight to bed — with very suspicious “You don’t have to escort us, Professor”s and “We won’t get caught, don’t worry!”s. 

After mentally noting his debt to the boys, Remus, too, carried on with his night.

Scanning the map quickly, he stopped at a sickening name scurrying around the fifth floor. 

_ Prey, _ the wolf inside him growled. _ Finally. _

* * *

Draco had found Potter easily enough. That is, he walked aimlessly for a few minutes until he accidentally bumped into something invisible and student-shaped. 

“_Malfoy_?”

“Shush!” Draco reached out blindly, pulling when he felt fabric and immediately covered himself. “Do you _ want _to get into trouble?”

“Maybe you wouldn’t have to worry about that if you stayed in the Hall,” Potter hissed, though he adjusted the cloak to cover Draco’s feet. “Malfoy, what are you doing here?”

The previous excuse seemed rather flimsy now, so Draco just crossed his arms. “What do _ you _think I’m doing here?”

“I wouldn’t ask if I had any idea, git.”

Potter’s tone was irritated, vastly different from their… civil interaction earlier this evening. This made Draco’s own ire flare up. “Well, I couldn’t let you get expelled before you give me what you owe, could I?” he whispered as loudly as he dared.

“How do I know you're not out to cause trouble yourself?”

He sniffed disdainfully. “Recalling your track record, how do _ I _know that I’m not apprehending a troublemaker? I can always turn around and look for Professor Snape.”

Potter had the audacity to snort. “Yeah? And admit that you were out here, too? I don’t think I’d have to remind you of detention back in first year. Go back to sleep, Malfoy.”

Draco huffed, but refused to leave. The Gryffindor exhaled shortly, and turned away. 

“If you make any noise and get us caught, I’m going to wring your neck, I swear it.”

* * *

Remus ignored the whispers of the paintings in the hallway, eyes only on the map in his hand, illuminated by his wand on the other. Some of them tried to catch his attention, hurling inquiries, but he strode on without so much as a twitch. 

The scrawled _ Peter Pettigrew _danced around the map mockingly. Increasingly irritated, Remus needed to stop a few times to shuffle the parchment and follow the dot scurrying from view. 

He first spotted the name on the third floor, though soon enough he realised that it was quickly heading to the lower levels. It was nervous, that much was obvious as it sped up further when passing by staff offices. Any corridors with staff patrols that couldn’t be avoided made him wait, allowing Remus to close the distance between them little by little.

Fortune was on his side, it seemed. The rat might as well have crawled straight to the Aurors, with all the effort Remus had to expend. It made the earlier frustrations seem like a distasteful prank.

The moving dot had reached the ground floor now… Remus followed, almost making a full circle towards the Great Hall. The rat would be bypassing the students, surely. Which meant it was heading for the northern part of the castle. 

* * *

As they ventured towards Merlin knew where, Draco looked through the cloak. Quite a fascinating artefact. The portraits on the walls showed no sign of seeing them, engrossed in their gossiping. Draco could do anything right now and they’d be none the wiser. He wanted one of his own, perhaps Father— no, Mother had more investments in fabrics and such. He’d write to her in the morning.

The shimmery veil was rather similar to looking into the lake from the common room. His shoulders relaxed and their journey became calm and quiet, at least on his end. 

And warm, because Potter kept close to him. At that realisation, the awkwardness returned thrice-fold. He tsked and spoke to distract himself. “Where are we going anyway? ”

“I’m looking for Professor Lupin.”

“Fat chance, he could be patrolling anywhere in the castle,” Draco commented, unimpressed. “Other than you being his little class pet, why him? And why were we ordered to stay in the Great Hall?”

“The man who sold my parents out to Voldemort is here, in the castle.”

Draco flinched at the name, and tried to hide it. “The man...?"

“Peter Pettigrew. I’m looking for him.”

_ Pettigrew? The war hero? _Potter looked serious, a hard set to his jaw.

That didn’t make him any more equipped to track a dangerous criminal. “Intending to make the arrest yourself, are you? If you’d dragged me out here for a lark—”

“I didn’t _ drag _you out, you menace. And I’m not going to get involved, I just want to see him. Once again, _you're free to go back._”

Draco ignored the last bit. “That still begs the question of _ how _ we’re going to find—”

“Look. I have a feeling, alright? I reckon we’ll find them soon enough.”

“A _ feeling_—” Potter glared, and Draco lowered his volume, nerves returning. “I would’ve thought you’d have some plan!”

“Nope. Usually, I still end up in the thick of things, though, don’t worry.”

Don’t worry? _ Don’t worry? _ Detention, or even bloody expulsion looked appealing right now! “There is a _ murderer _ skulking about. We are actively looking for a madman.” Potter just shrugged, the _ nerve _ of him_. _Groaning, Draco yearned for his horrendously purple excuse of a bedspace back in the Hall.

But he didn’t turn back. Appearances and all that, of course, that was the only reason. Potter would soon realize he was indispensable, and Draco would be on his merry way once Potter was reduced to begging for his presence. 

_ If we survive wherever Potter’s bloody _ feeling _ deigns to lead us. We’d be lucky if we only ended up in detention.... _

He ran his fingers over the soft fabric hiding them. In any case, he could always run aw—_retreat _with the cloak if Potter did something incredibly more dim-witted than usual.

Draco startled when Potter pushed him to the wall, a hand over his mouth. He was about to bite the hand and scream bloody murder when Potter muttered, “Look. It’s Professor Lupin.” 

Smacking his hand away, Draco glanced over to the courtyard in disbelief.

“There is no conceivable way that this is always how you get your merry little adventures.”

“I told you so.” Potter’s mirth quickly faded and he gestured for them to get a little closer to their teacher.

Looking more dangerous than usual, the shabby professor held something violently wriggling in his fist. 

“_You’re not going anywhere_,” Draco heard him growl. Lupin lifted his wand hand and the light revealed a rather large and hairy rat.

“Merlin, what’s he _ doing_? Has he gone mad?” There was always an unsettling air about the professor, but this was far from anything Draco expected to witness.

Potter ignored him in favour of glaring at the scene.

“Potter! We have to call a teacher, he looks seconds away from _ eating _the thing!”

“That’s Pettigrew.”

“Excuse me?”

“That’s him.” Potter jerked his chin towards the other two, as if Draco would be looking anywhere else. “He’s an Animagus.”

Draco wasn’t sure he entirely believed that but… _ An Animagus? So he really is powerful. And if he got away with hiding that from the Ministry, along with the murder... _

Lupin cast a spell that turned the rat into a small, dirty little man cowering on the ground. Draco stepped back on instinct. Both forms were unassuming perhaps, but being in close proximity with You-Know-Who’s apparently very competent lackey was _ very _uncomfortable. 

Draco was well aware of the bad blood between his parents and the former Death Eaters. He’d heard of Aunt Bella and her threats towards her own sister, thank you very much.

Pulse quickening, he swallowed. “Well, Professor Lupin seems to have it all in order! May we leave now?”

Potter looked at him in a way that made him bristle instantly. “I’m sure even _ Lupin _can handle him,” Draco argued, in case Potter thought him cowardly or other such nonsense. “He looks quite pathetic. Are you certain he really is a murderer?”

“My father is dead, isn’t he?” After he bit back the words _Actually, wasn't it the Dark Lord—_, Potter forcibly pulled him out into the clearing, close enough to see and hear the two grown wizards clearly.

_ Too _clearly. Draco violently pulled them back behind a line of shrubs beside the arch connecting the courtyard to the building. “Not getting involved means staying far from elbow’s reach, Potter!” Despite the subsequent hissing, Potter refrained from charging into the open like a buffoon.

“Appreciate the wisdom I impart?”

“Malfoy. Shut up.” 

Draco was going to protest, truly, but a figure in billowing robes appeared beside them and he slammed his mouth shut.

Professor Snape, hovering by the entrance, was standing much too close for Draco’s heart to keep a steady beat, but he made no indication that he knew the two students were there. He, too, quietly watched the scene before them.

* * *

“Remus, my old friend…”

Peter squeaked when Remus grabbed his collar. “You were _ never _ our friend,” Remus snarled, jabbing the tip of his wand into a quivering chest. “The ruse is up, _ Wormtail. _ You’ll be paying for everything you’ve done. To Lily. To Sirius. To _ James. _”

“B-believe me, Remus, I had no choice—”

“James is DEAD, you fucking bastard. You killed him, after everything we’d all been through together. He _ trusted _ you, _ Sirius _trusted you— we all did, and you spat on us all! You didn’t care, did you?! All you cared about was your own hide!”

“Remus… Moony, the Dark Lord targeted _ me, _ wh-what was I to _ do? _”

“Fight alongside the people who cared about you! He was targeting ALL of us, Peter! Your friends, your family! Were you so swept away by the war or were you _ never _who you pretended to be all those years?”

“I am your friend, Moony! I made mistakes, but I’m still—”

“Mistakes? The only _ mistake _you made is failing to flee the continent when you had the chance.” Remus felt his lip curl over his teeth. “No more chances for you, Peter.”

“Moony—”

“_Stop calling me that,_” Remus bellowed, shaking him violently. “I will kill you right where you stand if I hear it again.”

“...R-Remus, forgive me, I— There must be _ some _mercy in you—”

Peter started gnawing on his fingers at the darkening expression.

“One.”

“Remus?”

Remus tightened his grip on Peter’s front. If it were the full moon, his claws would have ripped the man to shreds. But the moon was waning, and he couldn't decide if that was fortunate or not.

“Give me a _ single _reason why I should show you any mercy after what you’ve done.”

Peter spluttered, actual tears falling from his eyes. “Remus… Remus, you’ve always been the best of us—even J-James, in all his brilliance, was less level-headed than you were—you _ know us_, I-I always needed guidance—I will pay but I can’t die, Remus, I can’t survive Azkaban, you _ know _me—”

“You deserve worse than Azkaban,” Remus whispered. A part of him recoiled from the idea, the more human part, perhaps. But he couldn’t take it back even if he’d wanted to.

Peter’s eyes widened, and he fell to his knees, almost knocking Remus down with him. He scrambled for the hem of Remus’ trousers and began begging. “James would have shown me mercy, Remus! You know he would have—I may not deserve it, I may be the scum you think I am, but I-I was just a-afraid… So _very_ afraid, Remus, and James would have seen that! He would’ve wanted to give me a chance to repent! Remus, please! I’ll m-make it up to you and… and to Lily! Let Lily hear what I have to say first, R-remus, I’m beggin—”

Remus scoffed. _ Lily might not even wait to hear your first words. _But that wasn’t exactly right, was it? She was insistent on doing everything the right way so far, and no one had more right than her to decide—

“—take care of Sirius! I’ll grovel and accept all his hate, I’ll serve him all my life—”

“_NO!_” Remus roared, kicking Peter in the stomach, wand steadier than ever even as rage threatened to consume him, to burn him alive. “_You will have _ nothing _ to do with Sirius ever again!_” The wood creaked underneath his grip, the same way curses strained against his lips. He shoved his foot into a heaving chest to compensate, as if kicking Peter away would get him all the farther from Sirius.

Peter raised his palms in surrender, begging him to stop, but Remus was not appeased. His blood was _ boiling_, the wolf inside was howling, and a string of Unforgivables were at the tip of his tongue. 

* * *

“Why _ aren’t _ they moving?” Harry hissed, looking at the Aurors that had joined Snape. They looked like they _ wanted _to intervene in what was quickly turning into a bloodbath, but…

He turned to Malfoy for a possible answer, but the other boy couldn’t seem to take his eyes away from the scene, his skin a deathly pallor. Helpless, Harry turned back to the adults, trying to figure out—

He stilled at the expression on Snape’s face. The professor looked… gleeful, watching the spectacle. Looking closer, his hand was raised at his side, blocking one of the Aurors from passing. The stocky Auror looked cross and like he very much wanted to break Snape’s arm, yet Snape ignored him, an unsettling grin underneath his hooked nose.

Harry followed the line of his manic gaze, and _ knew. _

_ The bastard wants Lupin to become a murderer, he wants the Aurors to see him break, the sly, evil— _

Without another thought, he removed the cloak, careful to tuck it around Malfoy, who had jumped at his sudden movement. He stood up and ran forward. 

“Wait! Professor, stop!” he shouted, ignoring the surprise from the adults behind him. 

In an instant, Lupin stilled his violence. “Harry,” was his pained greeting. His shoulders hunched at Harry's sudden appearance. He lifted the sobbing man on the ground and threw him between them. “Harry, this is the man that betrayed your parents. Betrayed us all.”

Pettigrew’s nose was bleeding, and he was clutching his side, but his eyes lit up as if Harry were a saviour.

“H-Harry, you look just like your f-father—”

“Don’t speak to him,” Lupin snapped, coiled to attack again, but Harry said, “Wait!” and it was just as effective as the first time.

“The Aurors are here,” Harry told him, walking closer. Once at his side, he turned to the other adults except Snape, who seemed to be trying to imitate a Basilisk. “Will you take him, please? He’s the one you’re looking for.”

The Aurors looked extremely relieved for this direction, one of them even bumping Snape’s shoulder roughly on the way. Ropes were conjured and Pettigrew was secured almost immediately.

“We’ve called for Professor McGonagall,” one of them said brusquely. “We’ll need you to get your spell off this one after she pulls down the Anti-Apparition wards.”

Lupin nodded, and sighed once the Auror left to wait with the criminal. He looked like he aged a decade in one night, and Harry remembered that he wasn’t all that spry to begin with.

Hesitating only a tad, he hugged the adult wizard.

He felt him stiffen. “Harry?”

“I’m sorry I had to stop you,” Harry murmured. “Not that I care either way about him, I think. I’ve no idea if anything he said was true, about Mum or Dad, or his guilt… But I just didn’t want you to be arrested, too.”

“Harry… I would’ve killed him for you. For your mum and Sirius. For your dad, too. And I wouldn't have regretted it.”

Flashes of the scene earlier came to mind, and Harry believed him. An hour ago he felt the same, and _ he _wasn’t the one who actually got directly betrayed by someone he grew up with.

“Dunno about Dad,” he said honestly. He _ didn’t _know his dad, as much as it hurt him. “But Mum and I would prefer you out of Azkaban, I reckon. Pettigrew’s already ruined enough.”

Finally, just as Harry was starting to feel awkward, Lupin relaxed and wrapped one arm around him. 

“I’m quite ashamed as well as furious, Harry,” he confessed. “It’s not only Peter that I blame for ruining everything. Ruining your life...”

It was strange, how this man was one of his dad’s best friends but he was just as much a stranger as a professor to Harry. _ There’s been too much time lost, with Mum, with Sirius, with_ Remus_… _ Strangely, the last dregs of anger left Harry’s system and he was just really, really _ sad. _

“I dunno what it’s worth, but…” He retracted his arms and gulped. Still, he made an effort to look into the questioning, light green eyes above him. “It’s not your fault that you loved him. I bet Dad did, too... Er, but if it’s really important to you, I forgive you.”

Eyes widened, followed by a forehead crumpling. Remus opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by Professor McGonagall arriving and immediately fussing over Harry in her stern way.

“Mr. Potter! Students should _ not _ be out and about right now, what exactly wasn’t clear about that?” But then she bit her lip in consideration. “Well, the circumstances _ are _delicate in your case… Twenty points from Gryffindor. And none of this next time!”

“Must we yet again confirm that Potter gains special treatment despite numerous transgressions?” Snape drawled, coming forward with an impassive expression. Harry wanted to bash his teeth in. “Not even detention, Minerva?”

To his pleasure, Harry’s Head of House went on a tirade about sensitivity and being allowed to do her job, thank you, Severus. 

“Speaking of which, let’s proceed,” she announced, approaching the trio of Aurors surrounding Peter. “Is that him, then?”

Pettigrew looked up hopefully from his pitiful and bound state. “P-professor—!”

“I mourned you, Peter Pettigrew,” McGonagall said icily. “I intended to keep you fondly in my heart until my dying days. It’s a shame that you turned out to be a disgrace to your House. Moreover, you were a disgrace to your _ mother _who loved her mild-mannered boy so much that she could never be appeased by the awards he received for heroism. She would've been heartbroken to see you now.”

The man whimpered, but she was finished. “Alright, then, I’ll be lifting the wards but it’ll be contained in this courtyard. Be quick, gentlemen, for the school dislikes when this happens. The effects may be erratic.”

“No problem there, Professor, we’re ready when you are.”

“We’ve already sent word to the Ministry, too. It’s a done deal, Professor.” The latter bounced on the balls of his feet at this report. Harry guessed he was an old student.

It turned out both were. “Very good, Auror Smith, Auror Allen. Be ready in exactly two minutes.”

Harry observed as Pettigrew’s shaking intensified. _ If he hadn’t betrayed all his friends, he’d be another uncle of sorts. _

He averted his gaze.

Remus approached the bound man with his wand raised, presumably to cast the counter-spell. Harry wondered if it worked like the magic McGonagall was dealing with now, and resolved to ask later. 

He was just beginning to wonder if Malfoy had gone when Pettigrew made a last attempt at begging.

“Moony, Moony, _ please_—”

Remus scowled. “You've lost any right to use that name.” Thankfully, he didn’t sound as if he were close to breaking apart again. 

“If you can forgive _ him_, why can’t you forgive me?!” Pettigrew yelled, a new note of anger lacing his tone. 

“Who?” Harry asked without meaning to. 

“Him! Snivellus! If he can be redeemed, why can’t I?” Harry whipped his head around, but Snape almost looked bored. 

Remus sighed, and requested that Auror Allen keep Pettigrew still. The Auror tried, all three tried, but Pettigrew seemed caught in a fever, twisting erratically until he had fallen towards Harry. 

“Harry, tell your mother—Tell Lily that if she can forgive Snape—”

“Severus and I have our differences, Peter, but he’s proven himself to be on our side.” Remus huffed and seemed to lose interest in making the counterspell comfortable. He cast a faint red light and Peter shuddered.

“The spell’s off,” Remus told the others, who nodded, hauling the babbling criminal up. “Come now, Harry, I think we’ve spent enough time here, don’t you?”

Harry nodded slowly, drawing closer to his… professor? Uncle? “D’you think Sirius will feel better now?” He didn’t think that someone who spent the last twelve years as Sirius did could be right as rain so quickly, but he hoped this would give all the adults in his life some peace of mind.

The smile directed at him wasn’t entirely sad, at least. “Better, certainly. Especially with you and your mum—”

“HE’S JUST AS BAD AS I AM, B-BELIEVE ME, DON'T YOU KNOW HE’S THE REASON THE DARK LORD—”

Harry startled at the screech and turned just in time to see Snape cast a hex in Pettigrew’s direction. At the same time, McGonagall dropped her arms once the wards lifted, brow furrowing as she redirected her wand to disarm Snape. One of the Aurors beat her to it, though, and Snape’s wand flew from his hand. Pettigrew fell to his side, pained whimpers escaping him.

“What do you think you’re doing?!” Remus was yelling the same time as McGonagall gave a sharp "Severus!".

Snape’s beady eyes fixated on her, looking lost, as if _ he _were the one caught by surprise. He quickly recovered, and snapped back, “Was I supposed to just let him smear—”

“He’s on the way to Azkaban already!”

“I suppose only _ you _are entitled to—”

“Remus Lupin and Severus Snape! This is _ not _the time to squabble like schoolboys—”

“_No!_” Harry yelled, fumbling for his wand. “His arm!”

But it was too late. Amidst the yelling, the Aurors failed to notice that Pettigrew was leaning on his side not only because of the bleeding, but also because the spell — the_ Severing Charm_ had cut through a part of his bindings. 

Without anyone noticing, he had acquired Snape’s wand, which had landed in the darkness near him.

“Are you all _ fools_? _ Do something!_” Snape roared, unarmed and angry. Peter hexed the legs of the Aurors around him, and dodged McGonagall’s wandwork.

Remus _ leaped, _but Pettigrew only shot him a tear-stained, triumphant grin, raising the wand like a trophy, and disappeared.

Harry felt his heart drop like a lead balloon as Remus howled, pounding the ground in rage.

* * *

It was nearly witching hour when Filch led Lily into the castle with an awe she wasn’t sure she was comfortable with. Still, her good cheer did not diminish, despite the unsure company and the late hour.

Amelia was kind enough to tell her that Peter had been apprehended, and what was Lily to do but go straight to Hogwarts?

Sirius had resented staying behind, though he tried to hide it for her sake. Lily sought to comfort him by confiding that Harry was interested to meet him, and left the manor quite satisfied with his improved mood. 

Remus would be much better now, too… The delay in Peter’s capture earlier must’ve stressed the man, but at least now she had a reason to force him to sleep.

And of course… Harry. The bond flowed, exuding warmth as her steps brought her closer to him. She was told that he was present during Peter’s arrest, and while she detested that the two would be anywhere near each other, she would join him in acquiring this final reprieve.

She even took the time to smile up at the pillars of the school that once took care of her, and now watched over her son. 

Perhaps not perfection, but she felt that with this mishap behind them, all was well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Meet Harry's first born child, I'm-Not-Going-To-Get-Involved Potter.
> 
> As always, kudos/comments are dopamine hits! but only if u got something out of the fic too!
> 
> For this chapter in particular, how did you find Remus' perspective? Truly, I was prepped to meditate just to crack open his mind here. In the canon book, he was pretty calm vs Peter, but in this fic he doesn't have to balance Sirius' heightened emotions + he actually witnessed some effects of Sirius' trauma, I think he deserves to be more outwardly wounded. On a more general note, MAN expect a journey for the two men.
> 
> (I'm [ladyrobiness](ladyrobiness.tumblr.com) on tumblr! I need more Drarry/Gen (No Ship) HP blogs to follow, recs would be good <3)


	15. Barely the Beginning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Early update! (I say early, but since I've abandoned any sched for now, I guess that's not the most accurate word.......)
> 
> Lily's back! Cheers!

Instantaneously, Lily's mood shifted. 

Her son was kneeling on the ground beside a hunched figure. He was the first to notice her arrival.

“Mum!” She sped up but he was faster, running straight into her arms. She closed her eyes, hugging him close. 

“Harry,” she breathed. This was her son, her _ son. _Suddenly all of the distance she had allowed between them seemed like the worst idea she’d ever had. 

“I’m glad you’re here,” he murmured, pulling back and looking at her with wide eyes. “Pettigrew—”

“Are you alright, sweetheart?”

He blinked in surprise. “Er… yeah. _ I’m _fine, but…” He glanced back at the figure still on his knees. 

If the pacing Aurors who were supposed to be at the Ministry by now hadn’t clued her in, Remus’ utter devastation and the wrecked grass around him would have been clear enough. 

_ Oh, Moony. _

She leaned down and cupped Harry’s face. “When did Peter escape?”

“Maybe a quarter of an hour ago? It… took a while before Remus calmed down.”

“I can imagine.” She examined her son again. “He didn’t accidentally hurt you?” Moony wouldn’t, not with the distance from the full moon, but it was better to be cautious. 

Harry shook his head vehemently. “No! No one was hurt, really, other than Pettigrew.” His face hardened as he looked to the side. “Snape hexed him, cut through his bonds. That’s how he escaped.”

She frowned. “Weren’t the Aurors guarding him?”

“Yes, but they didn’t notice the bonds getting cut, Pettigrew was on the ground— Remus and Snape were fighting, and— _ I _ saw it and I _ tried _ to warn them, but I was too late, and—”

“It wasn’t your fault, Harry, you did nothing wrong.” He tensed, and she responded by squeezing him again. “I love you, and I’m just glad that Peter wasn’t able to hurt anyone before he escaped.”

“Lily!” 

She pulled away to greet McGonagall, keeping Harry’s hand in hers when he didn’t seem to mind. “Minerva."

Her old Head of House was looking at her all teary-eyed, an expression she’d never seen on the woman before. Yet she had no time for pleasantries, she needed answers. “Minerva, I have to check on Remus, and afterwards I would like help in piecing together just _ how _Peter managed all this. Harry’s told me about Severus—where is he?”

At first, McGonagall looked shocked at the coldness, then stricken but understanding. “He’s with Albus in the Headmaster’s office. I’m heading there with the Aurors to send them back thru the Floo. I’ll expect you to meet us there after you take care of…” She looked back at Remus, and the stern set of her mouth softened to show nothing but sincere sympathy. 

In turn, Lily’s heart softened as well. She clasped her hand around her former professor’s forearm. “It's good to see you, Professor. I just wish we could have met under better circumstances.”

McGonagall squeezed her hand and nodded. She looked at Harry with uncertainty. “I suppose I can’t convince you to go back to bed, Mr. Potter?”

Harry looked up at Lily, who gave him a soft smile to show that she’d be fine either way. She’d rather he stayed by her side of course, but it would make sense if he wanted rest from the disaster of a night. 

Relaxing, he turned back to her Head of House — _ his _Head of House now. “No, Professor.”

McGonagall nodded and left, followed by the Aurors who were shamefaced at the sight of Lily. She ignored them, heading straight for Remus.

“Remus, we’re going to Dumbledore’s office,” she called gently. She reached for his hand slowly enough for him to note her movements and proceeded to examine the bloody knuckles when he didn’t protest. She cast Episkey when she deemed the wounds light enough. 

“I have to go to Sirius. I have to be the one to tell him.” Her friend sounded very, very tired.

“Maybe you should get some sleep first? You might collapse from the trip.”

“I was supposed to end this all tonight, Lily. I can’t hide the truth from him until the morning.”

“Remus, it isn’t your fault, you’ve done the most work in all this—”

“And it was all useless in the end! Lily, I won’t be able to sleep anyway—”

“If it’s anyone’s fault, it’s Snape’s!” Harry cut in, and Lily could feel him trembling with emotion. “_He’s _ the one who ruined everything. You shouldn’t shoulder the blame for _ him._”

“Harry is most likely correct,” she agreed. “And I _ will _be speaking to Severus once I see him, and despite how much she’s helped us, Amelia has to explain the incompetence of her Aurors. Moony, you really need the rest—”

He leaned his weight forward, startling them even as he lifted his arms to wrap around them both. “I have to do this, please. I’m not changing my mind.”

Lily looked at him, _ really _ looked, and believed him. Against her better judgment, she said, “You are going to use the Floo in Dumbledore’s office.” She would not let him Apparate in his current condition.

He nodded, face greyer than ever, and walked with an arm still around Harry’s shoulder. Harry didn’t seem uncomfortable. On the contrary, he leaned into Remus’ space, keeping his hand in Lily’s.

Meanwhile, Lily steeled herself for the conversation to follow. She began to ask for details. 

* * *

Dumbledore sat behind his desk, looking as regal as Lily remembered from her childhood.

The difference was that she wasn’t awestruck at the sight anymore but instead incredibly wary. McGonagall was standing beside him with a grave expression, the Aurors nowhere to be seen. Severus was looking into the fire, his back to them. 

Lily planned on ignoring him for the moment, but he noticed their entrance and immediately came forward. “Lily—”

She pushed Harry behind her. “Harry and Remus have given me an account of what happened on the way here. I only need one more thing.” She crossed her arms. ”Why did you do it?”

He looked taken aback, as if that wasn’t _ obviously the first thing she would ask him. _He opened his mouth but didn’t answer. 

“Lily,” Dumbledore said in the heavy silence. “And Harry. Please sit, and let us discuss all of the unfortunate events that occurred tonight. Remus, would you like me to send for Madam Pomfrey?”

“No need,” Remus replied shortly, going straight for the Floo. With no further acknowledgement, he stepped into the fire, yelled for Amelia’s home and was gone. It was incredibly rude, especially for _ Moony_. Practically the equivalent of a normal person spitting at all of them in the eye while saying unsavoury things about their mothers. 

Lily couldn’t help but feel a little cheered. 

There were a collection of mismatched armchairs in the room, most likely conjured for the Aurors earlier. Lily took the one farthest from everyone else, and Harry sank down on the one beside her. 

“Unfortunate events?” she repeated, folding her hands over her lap. “Like a child not yet schooled on their magic then, Severus?”

“And wizards undergoing extreme emotions, Lily,” Dumbledore reminded her. “As demonstrated by Harry when he blew up Margaret Dursley this past summer.”

She saw Harry curl into himself and resisted the urge to lash out. For now. 

_The long run. It's better in the long run that you do not incapacitate your son's Headmaster._

“Harry is thirteen years old,” she reminded _ him. _ “And was made to live with the worst sort of human beings for a prolonged period of time. I don’t think fortune had much to do with the _ decisions _that led to the events either then or now.”

McGonagall and Severus both looked confused at her description of where Harry had been living, and she filed that away for later. 

Dumbledore leaned back into his chair with a thoughtful expression. “From my understanding, Peter Pettigrew was calling into question Severus’ dedication to our side. He wanted the same mercy for himself.”

“And so Severus proceeded to curse him, as one logically does.” 

“All of the wizards made mistakes tonight.”

McGonagall scoffed, crossing her arms. “An extreme understatement. Really, Severus! I'm surprised Lily hasn't hexed you to smithereens.”

“I don’t recall any of you stopping to interrogate _ Lupin _ as he pranced through this office.” 

Lily curled her hand around her wand at his tone. Just to calm herself.

To her surprise, Harry snapped before she could. “None of it would’ve happened if you let the Aurors arrest him right away,” he accused, brow creased. 

McGonagall stepped forward in interest. “Mr. Potter, what exactly do you mean?” Lily leaned towards her son in a similar manner. This wasn’t part of what he’d told her.

Harry pointed at Severus. “The Aurors arrived way earlier, and he was delaying them. Just... watching Re—Professor Lupin deal with Pettigrew. Like it was a show.” Lily had a strange feeling that he was holding something back and that she knew what it was. 

She turned to her childhood friend. _ Who didn’t seem to have grown out of their childhood at all. _

“I expect it wasn’t quite as much of a show as expected,” she commented lightly. Severus wouldn’t meet her eyes. 

“Mr. Potter, once again your prejudice against me—”

Harry exploded. “_My prejudice_ against _ you_?”

“You incessantly talk about things you do not understand—”

“Severus, that’s enough. Harry,” Dumbledore said gently, and Lily saw her son deflate. “Perhaps Professor McGonagall can get you settled into bed while we speak with your mother? You must be tired. I know you’d prefer to remain with her, but—”

_ This will go nowhere. Unless you give in to the urge to bring your wand into the conversation. _

“Yes.” Lily made sure her voice was ice cold and her smile sharp. She stood up and brushed nothing from her trousers. “My son and I are tired. I will talk to Madam Bones in the morning or perhaps the next since that’s the only route I can take for now. Thank you for your… contribution to ensuring that the man that wrecked my family gets what he deserves, however _unfortunate _ the outcome.” She nodded at Harry, who rose as well.

They left the office before Hogwarts became two staff members short.

* * *

Harry glanced back only once, seeing Dumbledore watching them before the heavy doors closed. 

Of course, he kind of expected that Snape would get away with it. Three years at Hogwarts and Harry already knew the drill. 

He _ hated _the man, and… if he were honest, he kind of hated that Dumbledore kept defending him, too. Not Dumbledore himself, because no matter how frustrating he could be, he’s proven to always have a good reason that nobody else could understand—but he despised the slimy feeling he got every time Snape got away with being loathsome. 

And now Harry’s mum was angry (which was gratifying) and so wanted to leave right away (which was the worst bit of tonight). 

When they got to the foot of the stairs leading to the Headmaster’s office, they stopped, and she looked at him so sadly that he had to avert his gaze. To this was goodbye then. Again. 

_It’s too soon, everything was supposed to be fixed, but now Remus is gone and she has to go back to fixing things but surely it’s too soon for her to leave again—? _ Harry knew he was being selfish. After all, shouldn’t _ he _be invested in catching the bloke that got his dad killed? 

But she felt more real now than she had all month, that feeling overcame all others.

_Couldn’t she stay, even just for tonight? I only gotten her back—  
_

“Harry,” she said, and he tensed his shoulders without meaning to. A gentle hand came down to rub one side. “Would it— what would you say to an impromptu holiday?”

He whipped his head up, startled. “Sorry?”

She tilted her head to the side, examining his face wistfully, _ fondly. _ Harry noticed that entire day they spent together in the summer that she looked at him like... like she _ loved _him. And Harry knew she did, she was his mother, but then they separated after a single day, and even though her letters were full of the same emotion, he’d forgotten the feeling of her actually being around...

In any case, Harry hadn’t even proved himself to be loveable yet!

“Perhaps a week?” she was saying, cradling his face. “The cottage is more or less habitable and the house in London even more so. Dobby has been such good help. Of course, neither are anywhere near perfect yet, and I’d hoped to make more progress before you came, but...”

Harry’s heart _ yearned_, but then he bit his lip. “Won’t you be too busy? With Sirius, and Pettigrew and all that.”

The sad expression returned, but Lily kneeled in front of him before he could apologise. “Harry,” she said softly. “I’ve been neglecting you, haven’t I?”

“No! I know a lot was happening... and I had school, and your letters—”

He wanted to kick himself when the remorse in her eyes intensified and he didn’t know how to fix it. 

“If you’d rather stay for the semester, I would understand. This is rather sudden, isn't it? The cottage will still be ready in time for the winter hols.” Green eyes flicked to the walls warmly. “I truly won't begrudge you. I know Hogwarts has a way of capturing one's heart.”

However, Harry was already trying to imagine the place they'd be spending time together — he'd be at _home_ with his _mother. _He vaguely understood that a family holiday entailed not doing anything of much importance but... _I don't think anything done with her could ever count as unimportant._

He couldn't imagine what to prepare for, not when he'd never had experience with a proper home and family.

_ Family. _Despite not knowing what to expect, he felt a burst of excitement.

“Would I be allowed to leave the school?” he asked, trying to temper himself.

“They could try to stop me if they wished,” Lily said in the same scary voice she used before leaving Dumbledore’s office. Like before, he suppressed a grin at how _ impressive _she sounded.

“I won’t be in your way?”

“Harry, I haven’t seen you in twelve years. I’d be ecstatic to have you in my way for the rest of my life.”

Heart close to bursting, he hugged her, careful not to jostle her too much since she was still on her knees. “A holiday with you sounds brilliant.”

She let out a quiet but utterly beautiful laugh, and he glowed at being able to cause it. “I'm so happy that we're on the same page."

* * *

Barely half an hour later, Harry was given leave and McGonagall as Head of Gryffindor offered to help him get his belongings from the currently empty dormitory.

Lily suggested that he leave his friends a note, kissed him on the cheek, and then went off to sent word to Dobby of their arrival. The house-elf was over the moon despite the late hour. 

Dumbledore had tried to get Lily to speak with him, even offered private quarters for the night, but she wasn't having it.

She had every intention to confront him, not just about this mess, but about everything that happened while she was gone. To Sirius. To Harry.

But not tonight. For the next week or so, she just wanted to take care of her son. They both had a trying night, a trying _month. _They have been separated for too long under too much pressure. 

At the moment, she took the time to see if she could leave a small message.

McGonagall said that Severus was still in Dumbledore’s quarters, and so Lily waited at the foot of the staircase. It was a shot in the dark whether Severus would come down before they had to leave, but she was content to try.

Fortunately, the gargoyle soon moved out of the way to reveal the spiral staircase. Severus exited and froze when he saw her.

“Lily—?”

She had her wand at his throat after barely a second. 

“I know you, Sev,” she spat. “I doubted at first since it’s been more than a decade, but I realised that if you hadn’t gotten over your rivalry with Sirius and Remus then you must not have changed as much as they say you have.”

He was tense, his chest heaving underneath her forearm, his throat working underneath the tip of her wand. 

“I know I made mistakes, Lily, but I have since atoned for them. I am on _ your _side.”

“Maybe you’re on the Light’s side. Maybe not. For now, that’s Dumbledore’s problem since he’s so protective of you. That’s not what I care about.” He swallowed when she dug her wand in deeper. “Why. Did. You. Do. It?”

She wasn’t lying—she did know Severus. She saw the split second he considered playing dumb and knew from the way he lifted his chin defiantly that he decided to deflect instead. 

“As the Headmaster said, Lily, it was a... burst of emotion. I am _ tired _of people constantly dragging my name through the mud,” he drawled pointedly. “Is it so surprising that I draw the line at criminal scum?”

She gave a short, harsh laugh. “You don’t _ do _ bursts of emotion, Severus, not unless it’s James or Sirius.” His jaw hardened, either at the memory or the accusation. “You gather yourself, you plan, you strike when the odds are in your favour. You don’t _ play your hand right away.”_ She gave another scoff. “That’s something we’ve always had in common. So _ why, _Sev, why did you free Peter?”

“I did not _ free _him,” he snapped, but his eyes were a little too wide to be intimidating. “I was compromised and I _missed_. Lily, I would never do that to you…"

"You? Missing at that distance? Severus, please."

"If you must know, Mr. Potter distracted me." He sighed. "As unbelievable as it may seem to you, it was simply an amalgamation of little bits of bad luck. You have to believe me, Lily, I would never cause you grief. Why on earth would I?"

“I never mattered that much to you, Sev, or you wouldn’t have joined the other side in the first place,” she said calmly. _Perhaps you might even refrain from referring to my son in such a tone, or at least call him by the name I gave him._

“Lily, you were _ dead _for twelve years. I’ve gained… perspective. And why would I lie? I kept your secrets as you requested in the shack, didn’t I?”

“If my wishes mattered so much, _ why did you free Peter?_”

“I _ did not free him_,” he hissed, beginning to struggle. Lily caught his wrist before he could reach his wand, and she pressed her wand into flesh until he winced. “He provoked me into maiming him. It was not just someone criticising me, it was the person who got you dead! In retrospect, it would have been less surprising if I intended to kill.”

“So it wouldn’t have mattered if he fled or died,” Lily summarised, mostly to herself. The web was coming together infuriatingly slowly. “You were both Death Eaters. He was comparing both your situations and thought it was unjust that you got away. He knows something.” She glared up at him. “What does he know, Sev? He has something on you, doesn’t he? What did you _ do_?”

“I have been forgiven for _all _crimes. He is bitter, I suspect. It matters not. In the end, I defected to _ your _side, yet you choose to heed the words of a coward and murderer?”

“Murderer,” she realised, head reeling. “He was a _ murderer_. And he thought you were _ equal _in terms of fault. Maybe even more—”

“Perhaps you’ve been gone too long, but might I remind you that it was a _ war_? We all have blood on our hands. I was _absolved._”

She stilled for a long while, mind on overdrive, but no other connections were made. Reluctantly, she stepped back, staring at nothing in particular. 

“Lily, if you give me a chance, I can show you that you can trust me again…”

She smacked away the hand reaching out for her. Not long after, the bond tingled, signalling that Harry was fast approaching. She forcibly relaxed her shoulders and pocketed her wand. 

“You’re hiding something, Severus,” she told him quietly. “And I’m going to find out what it is, and both Merlin and God help me, if I learn that you have jeopardised the safety of my friends and family more than you already have tonight, I will make sure you rot in Azkaban.” She eyed him levelly. “I would do it right this second if I had evidence." _If Dumbledore wasn't bloody insistent on keeping you blameless. "_But if I discover that you've done something _worse..._”

He narrowed his eyes, the threats no doubt striking at his pride. Lily still knew him all too well.

“Barely over a month ago, the war was all I knew of.” She gave him her most serene smile even though her wand arm was burning. She lifted that shoulder and dropped it together with the corners of her lips. “And as you said, we all have blood on our hands.”

_Patience, _she reminded herself. She'd gotten more than she expected already. She already had a feeling Severus didn't exactly intend let Peter get away, and there was indeed a possibility that he cast a spell in the heat of the moment, as he claimed. Bluffing about her beliefs was meant to prod, and it worked. No use pushing further tonight.

She'll have the whole story eventually. And she _will _do whatever the knowledge calls her to do.

Yes, Lily would have to return for undoubtedly many more conversations within the castle walls. She loved Hogwarts, but she predicted that Ragnok would turn out to be more desirable company than those here.

That can very well come later. Now, she was going to spend time with her son, as far away as possible from trouble. They had a great deal to talk about, and she had been pushing Harry to the side for long enough.

* * *

Draco had ran back into the building around the time stupid, _ mental _Potter launched himself at the even more unhinged wizard and called the Aurors.

Pettigrew was a bloody mess by that time, all broken skin and pained whimpers. Draco shuddered, wondering how Potter could calmly approach the one that created that scene.

Lupin always looked shabby, but tonight he had a wild look in his eyes. He was more animal than man...

_ There was so much blood. _And Draco’s imagination made it worse, conjuring a body beaten into pulp, awash with rivers of red. 

_ That’s what would have happened if Potter hadn’t intervened. _

Shivering, Draco wrapped his arms around himself as he walked. He heard heavy breathing echo in the cold hallway, and it took a moment for him to realise the sound was from him.

He pulled the fabric around himself, careful not to lift too much from the floor. _ Get a hold on yourself, Draco, _ he ordered. _ You’re being ridiculous. If you’re concerned about the professor, just write Father. _

But it wasn’t just Lupin, was it? If Draco were in his place, he would feel the same hatred for a friend-turned-traitor. Merlin, he was even willing to see _ Potter _act on his rage earlier, to prove that he wasn’t so pure and innocent.

It just… wasn’t what he expected. Disgustingly Muggle, subduing someone in such a… _ hands-on _manner. What did he expect from a Gryffindor beast, anyway?

_ Lupin is a powerful wizard, _ said his mind. _ Reluctantly though I admit it, he’s quite a decent DADA professor, despite how he neglects his appearance. _

What if Lupin had decided to use his wand? Would there have been anything left of Pettigrew for Potter to see? 

_ Dead dead dead blood dead killing thrashing ripping— _

Magic or muggle, death was all the same. Wasn’t it? Magical deaths were the ones that mattered, of course, but the _ process _of it all was not dissimilar.

Draco _ knew _of violence, knew of vengeance. Unfortunately he had always been a tad squeamish about the… messiness of such things, especially when his own blood is involved. 

He was a Malfoy, however, and that meant if he sought to purge the world of his family’s enemies, he could easily leave the actual _ doing _to servants. Bribe, threaten, influence others to do his bidding… then wash his hands clean of it in proper society. 

He would never have to actually be there when it happened.

_ It’s different, of course, you have no connection to Lupin nor the Potters, you have no reason to _ care _ —and magic, being superior to whatever methods Muggles have, would keep things sterile—poisons, potions, mind-altering curses— _

“What does it matter?” he hissed. He thought of Pettigrew again, struggling, trying to get away from almost certain death. It was none of his concern.

“It’s none of my concern,” he whispered.

A professor turned the corner, almost crashing into him. He scrambled aside and held himself flat against the wall.

She wasn’t in formal robes the way most professors were. Apparently, she'd decided to drown herself in colourful shawls. Draco watched her pass by him, her forehead crumpled above enormous spectacles. She was muttering away.

Trelawney, the Divination teacher. On patrol still, or perhaps she just took to wandering the halls at night like the loon he’d heard her to be. 

Draco wrinkled his nose — he never even considered taking that hogwash subject, and he was glad for it.

Although it was entertaining to discover that she’d been adamant about Potter’s impending death—

_ Death, a body ceasing to function despite your own efforts, begging for air, begging for the pain to stop— _

“Enough!” Draco pressed his hands against throbbing temples.

He startled when he opened his eyes to see Trelawney looming over him. He wanted to step back, to run, but he didn’t dare make a move. 

Her eyes were unfocused, and since Draco still had the cloak, he doubted she’d actually catch him even if she'd heard his outburst.

_ She didn't come back for me, she just… took a few steps in the opposite direction of where she was headed… and is now staring into nothing, barely an inch from me. Very... normal. _

Draco grasped on the reminder that she was absolutely mad. 

_ Just wait until this fraud goes away. Yet another example of poor staffing— _

Her gaze shifted, and she was now looking directly into his eyes.

**“**_**The master lies alone, but his servant fast approaches..." **_she began in an unsettling tone. Draco felt goosebumps form all over his skin._**"Soon, the Dark Lord will rise again, greater and more terrible than he ever was… Blood compromises the mother, blood shackles the son, blood protects the enemy, blood unbinds the friend…”** _

She lifted a finger to point between Draco’s wide eyes, even though _ it’s impossible that she sees him— _**“**_**The key for the dark heir is the questions… In spring he will ask, in summer he shall see, autumn shall pass before he decides, and he shall receive the answer as winter dawns… And so the heir becomes the key…**” _

Trelawney took a deep, shuddering breath, and promptly collapsed on the ground.

Draco’s heart was thundering as he took in the prone figure in front of him.

No longer caring if anyone noticed, he ran away as fast as he could. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me (throwing rations around): Tiny bit of darkness for Lily! Tiny bit of internal crisis for Draco! Some familial fluff coming up for Harry! Tiny glimpse of Dumbledore for spice! 
> 
> Also, it feels like a MILESTONE that I finally got to publish the prophecy. It's barely the beginning, indeed.
> 
> (I know everyone wants Lily to really go off on Dumbledore and Snape and everyone that mistreated Harry –including me. BUT patience, dear hearts, this is a long game.)
> 
> (Nonetheless I hope that the fic isn't boring you or anything equally damp :( It's great fun for me and hopefully for you too.) 
> 
> (kudos = cold banana milk; comments = banana ice cream ...save me pls it's so hot where i am)


	16. Potions (Pause, Part 1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reasons for delay (in chronological order):  
1\. Intense feeling that I'm a horrible writer??? I'm over it for now tho  
2\. JKR decided to spread transphobia and I needed to distance myself  
3\. Got busy with visa stuff  
4\. I kept writing for the next book (Goblet of Fire) in this verse  
5\. Uni workload steadily increased  
6\. The absolutely devastating chaos of my country
> 
> However, not a day has passed without me thinking of this series. I'm 100% serious, I'm always running through the outline in my head. I'd love to be writing this nonstop, but alas this may not be the last time I extend the projection of how long this will take. I was naive to think that it would take me three years tops to finish the entire series (until after the canon books, if you've forgotten) but I am COMMITTED. 
> 
> This will be edited a lot more tomorrow; please forgive any errors as I'm very sleep-deprived right now. I love you all for being so supportive. Cheers!

Considering how their relationship consisted of letters and news articles, Harry built this image of Lily being an exceptionally busy woman (like Uncle Vernon, except better and with actual important things to do) and so was ready to behave in the manner of a scheduled appointment that just happened to live with her. 

Lily… did not treat him like that. 

He ran downstairs the morning after they arrived, horrified that he slept in. He checked all the rooms he passed as if finding his mother any quicker would change the fact that he ruined whatever agenda she may have had. 

Or worse, what if she’d already gone about her day without him?

He was so distressed that he barrelled straight into her figure. He gasped, looking up at her through teary eyes. 

“Harry!” she exclaimed, checking over him in concern. “What’s wrong, sweetheart? The bond… you felt very upset.”

She looked like she had been rushing as well. Harry felt guilty and tried to compose himself. “I’m sorry for sleeping in,” he said earnestly. 

Her face softened. “Harry, you’re allowed to rest as much as you need, especially after the night you had last night.” She gestured to the hall they were standing in. “I know it’s a new place, even for me, but this is meant to be our home. Or at least one of them…”

That thought still left Harry with an odd feeling, but he saw the care in Lily’s eyes and allowed himself to relax a bit. “I’m sorry, Mum. I know you’re really busy.”

“Harry,” she said very seriously. “I’ll say this as many times as you need: I am never too busy for you. You are my son, and I _ will _treat you as such. I’ve missed you, sweetheart, for all the years of your life, and all the months past.” Her face fell. “I apologise for my absence recently, but I don’t intend for it to be a habit. You are my priority above all else, even if it hasn’t seemed that way.”

He reached up to hug her tight. “I understand,” he said, not being completely honest but wanting to wipe that sad look off her face. “I just don’t want to keep you from all the stuff you said you were working on.”

She returned the embrace with a smile. “Those can wait, and frankly I’d rather they did. The house is fine, don’t you think? Well, livable.”

Harry looked around, although he couldn’t see much from where they were. The walls didn’t have wallpaper yet and so remained completely bare. 

Still, they were _ their _walls. “It’s brilliant.”

“Well, the carpeting did arrive early, I suppose,” Lily laughed, making him flush. “Would you like to see the rest after eating?”

Harry eagerly accepted her proffered hand and nodded. 

“I’ve always known of the London house,” she told him as they walked. “But your dad hated it, so we never went.”

“Why’d Dad hate it?”

“Well, Sirius had reason to… avoid the area. Muggle London, that is. It’s not my story to tell,” she apologized. Harry didn’t mind. “But James would never go to a place where Sirius was reluctant to follow.”

Harry imagined going somewhere Ron and Hermione couldn’t get to him. No, he didn’t have to imagine—Privet Drive was real enough. 

“Harry Potter!” a familiar croak called as they entered a room with a dining table set for two. Dobby snapped his fingers and the stove began frying bacon without his help. The house-elf disappeared and reappeared right in front of Harry.

“We meet again, Harry Potter,” the delighted house-elf said, bowing deeply. “Dobby feels that he is the most fortunate of his kin!”

“No need for that, Dobby,” Harry protested. “You’ve been alright, then?”

Dobby straightened up, almost bouncing in excitement. “Sit down, sit down! When Missus Lily called for Dobby, Dobby was honored but did not know… did not know, sir, that Missus Lily matched Harry Potter not only in greatness but in kindness…”

This pleased Harry and he tried to hide his smile. “No need to flatter me, Dobby.”

“Charmers, the both of you,” Lily tutted. “Dobby, you must join us to eat.”

“No, Missus Lily, no! Dobby is a proper employee now, the Potter housekeeper! Dobby has much to do, thank you Missus Lily!”

Before Lily could protest, he disappeared with a _ crack_. The bacon stopped sizzling and appeared on the table, plated, beside what was already an incredible feast of eggs, toast and various fruit jams. 

“I could do the cooking if Dobby’s busy with the house,” Harry commented, digging in.

His mum paused before slowly sipping at her tea. “Dobby would pose a challenge to that, sweetheart. He’s very keen on earning his wages, even though I’ve been trying to get him to accept more.”

“I can do other jobs… Gardening, laundry, cleaning all kinds of stuff…” Harry began to list what he knew to do. He trailed off when Lily pursed her lips. “Or not…” He bit the inside of his cheek.

“Harry,” Lily said, reaching out to hold his hand from across the table. “You can do whatever you want to do, as long as it doesn’t hurt anyone, including yourself. However, you’re in school right now, so maybe we can work out chores... in the summer instead?”

He wanted to protest. He didn’t really mind, and his schoolwork wouldn’t be bothered, really… But his mum’s green eyes were approaching something like sadness again, so he just nodded. 

He had a feeling that there was a lot of uncomfortable talking in his future.

Indeed, Trelawney would be proud of his foresight.

* * *

  
  


The house wasn’t fully-furnished, save for the dining area and the bedrooms. Harry didn’t seem to mind during the tour of the four floors and small garden. Lily thought that the house was really too big for two people and one house-elf, though she refrained from commenting at the sight of his bright curious eyes. 

There was dust and grime everywhere when she first arrived and the floorboards creaked with every step. Much of the original furniture had deteriorated, rats and doxies alike taking advantage of the vacancy. She had sent Ragnok reports on what she found, which he in turn sent to expert appraisers and renovators. Now that Lily was known to the public, the professionals will eventually be called in to survey in person. Though she’d reckon that between her charms, elbow grease and Dobby, the place wasn’t so bad.

Wizarding homes often had some feeling of sentience, in Lily’s opinion, although she never had the time to ask anyone who’d know for sure. This London townhouse felt like a long-abandoned old man, wearily cracking its eyes open to welcome Lily and _ seemed _pleased that it was finally getting attention. It was most cooperative to their endeavors. 

Now it seemed even lighter with Harry’s presence, although that might have just been her own joy.

After the tour, they returned to her study. Only an expansive oaken desk survived the years and Lily had claimed it for herself, taking a moment to remember the generations of Potters before her.

Since Harry’s arrival, she’d conjured two armchairs and a coffee table for them to use. A somber mood seemed to creep in as they sat. Harry was fidgeting, though he was obviously trying to hide it.

“Harry…” she hesitated. Where to _ begin_? “Harry, I’m sure it’s obvious that I’ve been concerned about how you were treated before.”

He opened his mouth, then closed it. He stopped meeting her eyes. Lily felt a deep ache telling her to stop hurting him, but she carried on. Avoiding the topic would only hurt him further.

“Did they harm you, Harry?”

“Not really...”

They fell silent again. 

Lily tried a different path. “Can you tell me more about your time with them? You had chores, you said. That horrible man called you names and if I know Petunia, she didn’t hold back either.”

Harry nodded slowly. “They _ really _hated magic, and since I lost control a lot, they hated me too.”

“They told you magic was evil? That it made you a freak?” Lily heard a lot of that from her sister in their childhood and wouldn’t be surprised.

The next words shattered that expectation. “Er, they didn’t tell me about magic at all. I only found out when Hagrid came for me.”

“...What do you mean?”

“Remember when I said Hagrid came for my eleventh birthday? That was also the night he told me I was a wizard."

“They… You didn’t know what was happening to you? That it was accidental magic, that it happened to me as a child, too?”

“No… they didn’t like to talk about you and Dad either,” he muttered with an old sort of wistfulness. “Well, except to tell me that you were good-for-nothings that deserved what you got. I didn’t believe them though, not even when I thought it was a car crash!”

“A car crash,” she repeated. “You thought we were Muggles.”

“Drunks and layabouts, Uncle Vernon insisted.”

That bastard. “You will always know the truth from me," she reiterated. "I will never lie to you.”

Harry ducked his head, looking smaller than ever. Lily composed herself, more determined than ever to understand the extent of the cruelty. “Please tell me. What about your needs? Food, water? Clothes?”

“I had enough…”

“You said they favored your cousin. Did you go to the same school? Eat the same food and so on?”

His hesitation said more than he did. “Yeah…yeah.”

“What about your neighbours, what were they like?”

“Mrs. Figg watched me when the Dursleys went out. I don’t think the others really knew I existed...”

“What about friends?”

“Ron and Hermione are great. The other Gryffindors aren’t so bad either, especially my teammates.”

“What about from before Hogwarts, Harry?” She had a notion but still had to ask.

The question dispelled any brightness he gained from talking about his friends. “I didn’t have any. Dudley wouldn’t let them, and… well, eventually people stopped trying.”

Lily looked at her son with new eyes, the shards of her heart trembling to the beat of the bond’s wails. _ You’ve been so alone, haven’t you? _

“You had to work for your food… does that mean three meals a day, at least?”

He squirmed. “Er, not… not always.”

“How often did you have a full day’s worth?”

He couldn’t seem to come up with an answer.

“How much of the chores did you do?”

“Not _ all _of them. Aunt Petunia really likes to clean.”

“Does your cousin help? His brute of a father?”

“No, never.” Harry seemed almost amused at the idea.

“Did you get to rest at all?”

“Yes! It was peaceful when I slept.”

_ And it wasn’t when you were awake. _Lily stood up to pace, trying to work off her agitation. “They must’ve been angry a lot… how did they punish you?”

“...More chores, and…” he trailed off, biting his lip. 

“How else?”

“Um, they… I…” He stopped again.

“Harry, _ please_—” she begged, but stopped altogether when she finally turned to him.

Harry was withdrawn completely. He was biting his lip and digging his nails into his palms so hard that she was surprised not to see blood. Even then, flesh had turned white with strain and his body was trembling.

Lost in her desperate interrogation, she hadn’t realized that his distress was mounting as well.

“Oh Harry,” she said, collapsing on her knees beside him. “I’m sorry. Forgive me, please—”

“It’s alright…” He leaned into her, breath slowing down.

“It’s _ not_,” Lily cried, taking his hands to her heart. “It’s not, sweetheart. It’s horrible that you had to live with such _ evil_.” He began to protest, but she shushed him gently. “There will be consequences.”

He looked at her with wide, confused eyes. “But you’re _ here. _Everything’s fine now.”

“It won’t be fine until I deal with them.” _ It won’t be fine until you’re healed. _“Please trust me?”

“Okay,” he sighed, wrapping his arms around her neck. “I’m just glad I don’t have to go back.”

“Never,” Lily swore. Even if something truly unfortunate happened to her, she would make sure no one else could make questionable decisions about his care.

* * *

Harry sipped on the tea Dobby brought in. Things had calmed down between the two Potters, and he felt much more comfortable after Lily said she wouldn’t push anymore for today.

“I will have to schedule an appointment with a Healer.”

He startled. “Are you sick?!”

“Don’t worry, I’m quite well… I meant a Healer to check over you. I don’t think it’s wise to go straight to St. Mungo’s at the moment. People like to make a fuss over you, apparently.” Lily frowned. “And me. It’s quite strange and a little invasive, to be frank.”

Harry agreed, having lived two years under much discomfiting scrutiny, but… “I’m not ill.”

“I just want to make sure. Think of it as making up for all your missed check-ups. I suspect the Dursleys didn’t take you to the doctor.” Her smile was tight.

No, they had not. To be fair, Uncle Vernon didn’t trust doctors in general, though Aunt Petunia could often sway him in regards to Dudley’s health. They never seemed satisfied with what the doctors had to say about his cousin, though.

Harry was just lucky not to be a sickly child and that the injuries he got—usually from Dudley or a particularly enraged Uncle Vernon—were minor and healed quickly. Or, later on, happened within reach of Madam Pomfrey.

He didn’t mind getting looked at too much, since it seemed important to his mum. Anyway, he’d never been to the famous hospital and it would be interesting to meet someone who worked there.

“Okay,” he acquiesced, then had a thought. “Can you go, too?”

She smiled. “I’ll be there right beside you, of course.”

“I meant… could you ask the Healer to look over you, too? I mean, you don’t _ have _to but thirteen years is—just to check, but… it was just an idea.” He blushed, self-conscious.

However, Lily just beamed at him, easing his worry. “Of course, sweetheart. Let’s give each other peace of mind, yes?”

The compromise of sorts cheered him. They jotted down a rough schedule for their week with Harry fully agreeing that they should stay inside for the majority.

“How’s Sirius?” he asked, tension returning. “And Professor Lupin?”

Lily, who had relocated to the grand desk, lowered her quill. “I’ve sent them a note about you staying with me. No reply yet, but… they need their time to discuss, I think.”

“To find Pettigrew?”

She shook her head. “That investigation will go on, but unless something new comes up, I fear Peter’s beyond us for now. Remus and Sirius just have… a lot of grief to get through.”

“I hope the Aurors catch him soon.”

“So do I, but we’ll be quite safe. I promise.” 

That wasn’t quite what made Harry grit his teeth. “He has to pay for what he did to you and Sirius. To Dad.”

Lily locked eyes with him. “He will, Harry.”

“Good,” he replied with a sharp nod. They spent a few minutes in silent mourning before his mum continued the conversation.

“I know we agreed to keep to the house, but perhaps those two could use a visit. What do you think? You haven’t met your godfather, after all.”

His spirits lifted immediately. He was definitely on board. “I want to meet him. Will we go to the home of Madam Bones?” From Lily’s letters, Harry imagined the law enforcement witch as strong and imposing. A little stern, like McGonagall, maybe, though Susan Bones— her niece, Mum said— seemed friendly enough. 

“He’ll be transferring to his ancestral home. Today, actually, if all goes as planned. The Healers said his recovery will still take a while and he didn’t want to impose on Amelia any longer.” She seemed bothered. “But he’s not alone. He’ll have at least one live-in Healer and Remus certainly won’t abandon him. Plus, there was a mention of a house-elf.”

“I can’t wait to visit.”

At this, fondness overtook her worry. “Let’s go the day after the Healer visits, then.”

Harry nodded excitedly and thought about how his little family was expanding. It was new and uncertain—he hasn’t even seen Sirius Black properly, what if he hated Harry? Additionally, they might never be as many as the Weasleys, but… it was nice. 

_ Very nice, _Harry affirmed, smiling to himself.

He spent the rest of the afternoon with his mother, who seemed to welcome it. Eventually they migrated to the basement that functioned as a potions lab.

“Most of the ingredients were intact when I first came,” she told him. “Your grandfather’s preservation charms held very well. The instruments just needed a good wash, too.” She had a spark in her eye that Harry hadn’t seen before. “And look at the cauldrons! I’m a very lucky witch.”

In the center of the room was the largest cauldron he’d ever seen, a little bigger than the ones sold in Diagon Alley. It was made of pewter and the rim was lined with a luminous green sort of rock.There were three more pewter cauldrons of more manageable sizes a small distance away. One of them had a fire lit and a potion stirring itself. 

“Calming Draughts for Sirius,” Lily explained. “Well,_ my _version. A little different from the standard one. It’s more like a Draught of Peace, really.”

Harry hopped on one of the wooden stools, trying to keep away as she began to stir the potion herself, checking its progress. “What’s a Draught of Peace?”

She didn’t seem to mind his ignorance. “A Calming Draught is usually one-off, for sudden outbursts or emergencies. It’s inadvisable to take it more than once a week. The Draught of Peace, on the other hand, is usually for those who are prone to anxiety on a regular basis. That one’s tricky and very exact.” She took a dropper and added something to the cauldron. “Therefore it’s expensive and not accessible to everyone, whether or not they need it. People then decide to risk using the cheaper Calming Draughts, since it’s better than never being able to sleep or go through the day without panicking.”

Harry soaked up the information. “And your version?”

“Well, as you can see, this one can be left alone for a while and is stable enough to be made in large batches. I kept the porcupine quills and moonstone from Draught of Peace, but instead of powdered unicorn horn, I used ginger and two strands of puffskein hair, which are more accessible and effectively boost focus and energy, respectively. Then I add the usual Calming Draught ingredients, though the crocodile heart reacted very badly no matter how I adjusted the ratio… Then in seventh year, I discovered that scraping off bits of the feather of an eagle owl could replace it, and even added the benefit of longevity…”

“Seventh year?!” Harry blurted out. “You invented a potion in your seventh year?”

“I wouldn’t say invented, since I had a solid base,” Lily replied, winking at him. “I began experimenting late sixth year but only stopped causing fires and such when I got around to the feather. Even then, I only perfected the recipe after we graduated…” She stared off to the side, looking nostalgic. “I was going to present it to get my Potions Mastery.”

“You wanted to become a Potions Master?” The only Potions Master Harry knew was Snape, which didn’t endear him to the title.

“I wanted to be a Healer in school... From the moment I learned about them, really.”

“What happened?”

“I took my NEWTS and the instructor for the Potions section praised me… while at the same time telling me I would never fit the profession.”

That filled Harry with indignation. “What? How does that make sense?”

“I was ‘too excitable and idealistic’, among other things,” Lily laughed, stroking his cheek to calm him. “But at that moment, I wanted to break his nose. Of course I restrained myself and decided to break into his imagined clique instead. I wanted to be a Healer to help people, but I liked the potions and poultices part the best. I realised that it's a better fit for me to tear down the snootiness surrounding potions and make them more accessible…”

“Wow…” Lily Potter was _ incredible. _ Harry had already learned of her excellence at charms, but it was obvious that she _ loved _ potions and everything to do with it. In a way, he was reminded of Hermione, if Hermione had a focus. “That’s amazing! You’re going to get it now that you’re back, right?”

Her eyebrows rose in surprise, as if she never considered it. “I… Maybe,” she replied hesitantly. “When everything settles down, perhaps.”

“That’s amazing,” he repeated sincerely. He approached the cauldron with increased interest, though he wasn’t knowledgeable enough to discern anything from it. “Can you teach me how to make this? If.. if you have time, I mean.”

He was glad that he overcame his shyness, for Lily’s face absolutely brightened up. “Of course, though we’ll have to wait until I begin another batch. Oh, Fleamont would’ve been so pleased. He always despaired that James had no interest in potions — it’s one of the reasons he sold the company.”

“Grandfather had a potions company?”

“Among others, yes, but potions brewing was his one true love.” There was no doubt that she shared this sentiment. “He invented Sleakeazy’s Hair Potion during his stay in China, though I don’t know if it’s still as popular as it was… He used to joke that Effie only took note of him after he began using it.”

Harry ran a hand through his forever-unruly hair, taking it in with new light. Potter hair, and apparently not just from his dad.

_ Sorry, Grandfather, _ he thought giddily. _ I don’t think I’ll be using your product anytime soon. _

He wandered around after that, looking at the many ingredients stored in various shelves and tables and recognising a bunch from Potions class.

It was strange to find out that potions brewing was so exciting to his family, not only because he would have never known unless someone specifically mentioned it, but also because he generally disliked the task.

A faint memory from first year challenged this notion. _ I was so interested in Potions class then. Up until Snape opened his bloody mouth. _Was that budding excitement a manifestation of his bloodline? Another thing he inherited from his family even before he knew of them?

_ In any case, I don’t think Potions class could ever be pleasant with _ Snape _ teaching it, _he thought sourly. That man really did ruin things.

He shook off these thoughts, unwilling to let Snape ruin his time here. He noticed three more cauldrons tucked away in a corner: two silver and one solid gold. 

“I wanted one of these the first time I entered Diagon Alley,” he exclaimed with a laugh, tapping the gold one. It seemed so long ago. “But I needed pewter for school, so Hagrid stopped me.”

“You have your grandfather’s tastes, it seems.”

Harry beamed.

* * *

_ Draco, _

_ As I’ve said before, it wouldn’t do for you to dismiss the woman Trelawney. I have it on good authority that she does truly have the Sight of her esteemed ancestor. I admit that the reports of the remarkable wastage of her gifts have been disappointing, but I am not surprised. Her father was incompetent enough to sully their magic with a Muggle, what do you expect?  
_

_ There was no protest when you chose not to take her subject, so I must wonder what has made you so irate that half your letter ended up a tirade. In any case, Dumbledore once again exhibits his lack of care regarding the quality of his staff, and it falls upon me to show others that. I’ll look more into this matter. _

_ If she has attacked you in any way, you _ must _ tell me. _

_ L. Malfoy _

In the Slytherin dorm room for third years, Draco Malfoy scribbled what he hoped was a reassuring reply. He sent his owl away and turned to the piles of books overflowing from his desk until the floor. 

They were mostly books about prophecies and foresight, though he had yet to find any information that was useful. He noted references to darkness, blood, the seasons and anything else Trelawney spouted. Written on a piece of parchment always in his pocket was the prophecy—for what else could it be?—that was burned word for word into his mind. 

Sighing, he drank another vial of the Invigoration Draught that Severus reluctantly gave him. His Head of House thought he was using it for his classes; he had looked dubious when Draco claimed leftover fatigue from his injury but eventually handed him some with a stern warning not to abuse it. 

Draco wouldn’t, he wasn’t an idiot… but he needed to find an answer somehow, a rationalization to what he was told that horrid night. 

He had no proof at the moment, but he had a suspicion it had something to do with Harry fucking-infuriating Potter...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You may have noticed that Lily has yet to hear about a teeny-tiny detail regarding Harry's time with the Dursleys... 
> 
> I researched very hard for the potions talk to make sense. Even if it's a relatively small note here, it's practice since potions brewing, along with other nerdy stuff like the Hogwarts subjects and renovation/management, will feature a lot. Mostly because I love those things. You've been warned!
> 
> I'm now [robiness](https://robiness.tumblr.com/) on tumblr, for those interested!


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